


Harry Potter and the Alchemist Brothers

by BlueTeller



Series: BlueTeller's FMA stories [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (kind of), (you bet things are going to be very different with the Elrics around), Action/Adventure, Adult Alphonse Elric, Adult Edward Elric, Alchemy and Magic are not the same, Alphonse Elric And Cats, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Dimension Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Parental Edward Elric, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, Post-Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Restored Alphonse Elric, Teacher Alphonse Elric, Teacher Edward Elric, The Author goes into excruciating detail about How Magic Actually Works, The Author is a Huge Nerd, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 88,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTeller/pseuds/BlueTeller
Summary: A few years passed since the Promised Day. Ed and Winry are happily married, Al proposed to May, everything is just like it's supposed to be... What can go wrong?But then, a foreigner with strange powers steals the last Philosopher's Stone from Central and of course Ed and Al have to go after him. But what will the Elric brothers do when they end up in an entirely different world?(Post-Brotherhood FMAxHP crossover, with a few twists. Starts at the end of "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone")
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Alphonse Elric, Albus Dumbledore & Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Cannon Relationships - Relationship, Edward Elric & Harry Potter, Edward Elric & Nicolas Flamel (Harry Potter), Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Mei Chan | May Chang/Alphonse Elric, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nicolas Flamel/Perenelle Flamel (Harry Potter)
Series: BlueTeller's FMA stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141709
Comments: 50
Kudos: 185





	1. Where it Ends and Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This fic hasn't been updated in years, but I still think it's worth it to put it up on AO3. I haven't abandoned it, I simply didn't have the time to really get into it since I got into college, but I still care about it very much. Despite all my criticisms of the Harry Potter franchise, it's still a big part of my childhood and close to my heart, flaws and all... and I admit: pointing out plot-holes and trying to fix them with a little bit of creativity is a big part of the reason why I became a part of this fandom.
> 
> Harry Potter is fun, plain and simple - even with its nonsensical magic system. And combining it with Fullmetal Alchemist, which has one of the best magic systems I've ever seen? It's double the fun.
> 
> Just a quick note; I did not intend to make the Elric Brothers OP just because they understand science. Their ability to use their brains will give them an edge over wizards, but magic is still pretty busted compared to alchemy and I doubt they're powerful enough to defeat Voldemort (YES, even taking into account that Ed won against Father by punching him in the face. Different rules y'all). Still, both disciplines have their strengths and weaknesses, which will all be addressed. I hope you'll have as much fun reading as I did originally writing this story.
> 
> Have fun! :)

* * *

"Nicolas, I understand that you have your reasons... But it's about time we talked _._ This has to end."

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, an old wizard who had seen and experienced many things in his lifetime, was piercing the man in front of him with a glare. The wise headmaster's blue eyes, usually filled with a cheerful twinkle, were now very serious, giving the other no doubt that he was speaking of a matter of utmost importance.

On the other side of the office, currently occupying a comfortable armchair, sat Nicolas Flamel. The famed creator of the only existing Philosopher's Stone (also known as the Sorcerer's Stone) and the greatest alchemist ever known among wizards. The man, although centuries older than Professor Dumbledore, seemed much younger that he did. In fact, he looked incredibly, deceivingly young. Even with his short brown beard, which matched the color of his ruffled hair, he appeared to be in his twenties at most. But Nicolas' hazel eyes weren't meeting Dumbledore's glare at the moment. Instead, they focused on the floor, as if their owner was lost deep in thought.

"I promised you I would keep the Stone safe, and I did," the Professor continued with a stern tone. "However, someone managed to get passed the protection spells that I and the rest of Hogwarts' staff had casted. Also, he was working for... or should I say, _with_... Voldemort himself."

Nicolas immediately snapped his head to the straight position.

"The Dark Lord?" he asked roughly, looking at Dumbledore's with anxiety. This was definitely _not_ what the alchemist had hoped to hear tonight.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Voldemort was planning to use the Stone to regain his body, without a doubt. And he came close, too."

Flamel cursed quietly, bowing his head down, trying to hide his expression. But for Albus Dumbledore, his face was like an open book, with worry clearly written on it.

"You do realize that you can't protect the Stone from him forever, right? Sooner or later, Voldemort is going to get ahold of it and use it. And after he returns, another war will begin, perhaps even worse than the last time."

"It's not going to happen..." said Nicolas with conviction in his voice. "We're not going to let this happen, Albus. He will never get the Stone."

"I'm sorry to say this, but... aren't you fooling yourself?"

Flamel frowned, not really offended, but confused what the old wizard was getting at.

"How long will it take, before Voldemort tracks the Stone down again? It could be weeks. It could be months. Years, even. For either of us, that's not a long time."

"But for him it is. He's impatient!" Nicolas responded, trying to convince his friend. "He wants to restore his power as soon as possible. Seeing how much trouble the Stone caused him already, I doubt he'll try this again. Not to mention," he stopped Dumbledore before he got a chance to speak "This plan of his is terribly flawed anyway, he has to realize that. Once you start using the Elixir of Life, you have to keep using it, in order to sustain the effects. If the Dark Lord really did steal the Stone and used it to create a new body for himself, he would become entirely dependent on it. I don't think he'd want such an inconvenient arrangement for the rest of his-"

"You underestimate how desperate he is at the moment" the Professor finally interrupted him. "He's on the brink of life and death! He'll do anything to survive and gain power! Merlin's Beard, Nicolas, he's been killing unicorns around Hogwarts for months!"

"U-unicorn blood...?" Nicolas gaped with horror. "Are you serious, Albus?! Who in the right mind would...?"

"It should have been obvious Voldemort isn't in the right mind, the moment he started a war in order to 'purify the wizard's race'."

"So he willingly put the Unicorn blood's Curse on himself?" Nicolas Flamel was still shocked, but he seemed more thoughtful now. "Shouldn't have done that. You're an expert in magical animals' blood properties. We could use that in the future, Albus."

"Actually, yes, I considered this myself... But we're not talking about that right now, so don't change the subject."

The alchemist slumped and sighed like a scolded child. He looked down on the hands folded on his lap. "You said it was Harry Potter who protected the Stone from him, right?"

"Yes, with the help of his friends." Despite the fact that they were having a serious discussion, Dumbledore couldn't stop a fond smile from appearing on his lips. "He's quite an extraordinary young man. Although, not for the reasons most wizards believe."

"So young Mr. Potter survived a _second_ encounter with the Dark Lord... I hope he's unharmed this time...?" Nicolas looked at Albus with concern. Every wizard knew about the lighting-shaped scare Harry received eleven years ago. Such a mark must have been a heavy burden on a young, innocent boy, who was so young at the time that he probably couldn't remember the day he got it.

"He had several bruises and cuts, and he passed out after everything that happened, but otherwise he's fine."

It didn't ease Flamel's conscience in the slightest, though. He gulped with a guilty expression on his face. Dumbledore saw his opening in the argument and decided to use it.

"The Sorcerer's Stone, Nicolas... is more trouble that it is worth. You two should have realized that a long time ago." He was talking about his wife, too. The only people using the Elixir of Life were Nicolas Flamel and his beloved Perenelle, both over six hundred years old by now.

"I... I know." He responded softly. "We know. I spoke about this with Perenelle... many times. She knows, too. She said she trusts my judgement."

"Then you know what must be done, right?"

Once again Nicolas Flamel looked away from stern eyes of his friend.

"I understand what you're telling me, Albus... but it's not an easy decision."

"You're not afraid to die."

It wasn't a question, but a statement of a fact. Nicolas lifted his eyes to meet the wizard and nodded. No, Flamel wasn't scared to die. He never had been. He had always been curious, about the world beyond death, he wanted to move forward to explore the mysteries of afterlife, to be finally free from the misfortunes of this world.

However, as he had told Professor Dumbledore, he had reasons to keep the Stone and prolong his life for so long. Some may be critical of this decision, but Albus had always been an understanding friend and never pressed the subject. But things had changed. Because the Stone still existed, Hogwarts and its students had been put in danger. Either they found a permanent way to hide the powerful artifact from the Dark Lord's reach, or they would have to dispose of it for good. It was a difficult choice that Flamel was facing. But it wasn't concern about his own life that kept him hesitating.

"When the Stone is destroyed..." he began, causing Albus to raise his eyebrows in surprise, mostly because he said 'when' instead of 'if', "...it will have consequences. I have a theory, but it's never been proven, and I always hoped I could avoid finding out."

"But you know how to do it, correct?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Yes, it's going to be difficult. As difficult as destroying a Horcrux, I believe."

"So you'll do it...?"

"Albus... Could you... could you do it for me, instead?" Nicolas asked humbly. "I know I've asked so much of you already, but I don't think I can do it on my own. Not only you're a better sorcerer," he said sincerely, "but I have a promise to keep. I'm already breaking one by agreeing to this. I don't want to break another, if I can help it."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. It was better that way. He trusted Nicolas, but he preferred to do it with his own wand, to make sure it was really gone and it wasn't just a trick. He had expected the alchemist to be much more resistant to the idea, to be honest. He had the Sorcerer's Stone in his possession for six hundred years, after all. Albus never doubted that Nicolas had a selfless, noble heart, but it would be understandable to get attached to the Stone, if not completely obsessed by it… And yet, here they were. "...you spoke of consequences, though. Could you explain what do you mean?"

Him and Flamel worked together for some years, but Nicolas was always very secretive about the creation of the Stone. He spared even the slightest hints about how he'd made it. No matter how many times he'd asked, Albus never found out anything, even the ingredients of the powerful object. He had seen it, he had held the crimson gem in his hand, but its magic was nothing like he had even seen. It was a masterful craftsmanship, ingenious beyond his abilities.

Naturally, as he could never find out what magic created the Stone, he had no idea how to destroy it, either. Which was why Dumbledore couldn't have made the decision himself. Now his long-buried curiosity peaked again. If Nicolas told him how to take it apart, perhaps he would get a better idea how the powerful object had been made.

"You remember the most important rule of alchemy, Albus?"

"Ah, yes… Equivalent Exchange."

"Correct!" For the first time in their meeting Flamel smiled, proud of his student. It was good to see that Albus still remembered some of the alchemy Nicolas had taught him. Not many wizards were capable of comprehending even the basics of alchemy, which was why this art wasn't popular in practice. "The Stone still contains an enormous amount of energy. So, when it's released, that can't just vanish into thin air… I honestly don't know what will become of it, but the potential reaction might be extremely dangerous."

"Is it one of the reasons why you haven't done it before?"

"One of them, yes."

"By energy, do you mean dark magic, or just overall magic power?"

"I'm afraid this is something I cannot answer."

Professor Dumbledore decided not to show his annoyance with the man's constant secrecy. It wasn't the right time for it, and besides – Dumbledore had more than a few secrets as well, so it was only fair.

"You'll need both magic and alchemy to decompose the Stone." Nicolas stood up and walked to the headmaster's desk and took a piece of parchment. "You'll need a very, very complex array if it's going to work. The good news is, you don't need to be worried about the aftermath of a failure, because in worst case, nothing will happen. I should warn you though, each attempt is going to leave you drained."

"No worries, Nicolas," Dumbledore chuckled. "As the young ones would say, this old man still is kicking and stoked."

"Oh, I believe you, Albus," Flamel grinned at his friend, adding: "Crazy old geezer..." under his breath, "But you shouldn't abandon safety precautions. The reaction in most probability is going to be violent. Also, I wouldn't advise you to do it outside Hogwarts."

"Why would you say that?"

"The energy burst will most likely cause condensed magic to appear on the radar, and I don't want to alert the Ministry and have them sticking their noses into this." He frowned in displeasure. He was never happy with the government, which was why he never got involved into political manners, unlike Albus. He continued writing and drawing while explaining: "Hogwarts has already strong magical residue, significant enough to cause electrical devises to malfunction in this area. If you do it here, it won't gather much attention."

"I see." Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard. "So, when it's going to be ready?" He asked, looking at the transmutation circle on the parchment. It was strange, much different from the ones Nicolas showed him in the past. It would appear that there were many secrets of alchemy that even the great headmaster of Hogwarts didn't know.

"I need to fetch some materials from my laboratory, I'll be back soon..."

The alchemist hurried to the other side of the office and grabbed an old, dirty shoe. Of course, it only looked like it was an ordinary object, for it was a Portkey he previously used to get into the school (after all, as one Hermione Granger always had to remind everyone, "You cannot apparate inside Hogwarts!"). Nicolas instantly disappeared, leaving Dumbledore alone in the room.

Professor Dumbledore sighed. A quiet tweet caused him to direct his eyes to a fiery-golden colored bird, sitting on one of the shelves.

"I know, Fawkes," he said as if the phoenix just shared a profound thought with him. "I'm glad this is going to be over soon. The Philosopher's Stone is simply too dangerous to exist any longer. However..." Albus closed his eyes and smiled, but his expression bore a trace of sadness. Fawkes flew off his shelf and landed gracefully on headmaster's shoulder. Albus petted him absentmindedly. "... **he** will be sorely missed."

The phoenix tweeted again and rubbed it's beak against his master's cheek in a comforting gesture. The man suddenly felt something wet on his face. Dumbledore looked at Fawkes. There were shining tears falling from the birds eyes.

"Oh, don't be sad, friend..." The wizard told him gently, reaching a phial from his pocket and collecting the precious liquid. Phoenix tears were the most powerful healing elixir and couldn't be wasted, but Albus Dumbledore cared about Fawkes' feelings as well. "You should know well that to such an organized mind like his, death is but the next great adventure."

* * *

The next day, Professor Dumbledore stood in his office, alone with the exception of his companion Fawkes, standing next to a huge transmutation circle drawn with chalk on the floor. Nicolas said he didn't want to be present for the final stage and insisted for Albus to carry on without him.

Dumbledore, suspecting he would never see his mentor, research parter and dear friend again, at least not in this world, offered him the warmest farewell and words of gratitude. However Flamel, acting like he was leaving for a happy field trip, merely shrugged and handed him the crimson Stone, saying:

"I made enough Elixir of Life for me and Perenelle to last for two months. After we're done with all the unfinished business, we're ready to go… Honestly, I can't wait. Funny, isn't it? I should be terrified, but I'm kind of relieved, dare I say excited. In the past I used to travel a lot, I wanted to find out about all the secrets of the universe. Now, we can both continue our journey, to see what lies beyond, to never again be held back."

After that, we just waved and left. Nicolas Flamel, Dumbledore thought with fondness, had always been an unusual man, almost as odd as himself.

The headmaster focused now on the task at hand. With precision, he carefully placed the Sorcerer's Stone in the middle of the circle. Next, he drew his wand. Before he began, he cast a few protection spells, as well as temporary silencing spells at the door. He didn't want anybody to interfere, in case the process of destroying the Stone was too noisy and attention-seeking.

Finally, Professor Dumbledore, steadying his wand and directing all of his attention to the circle… pronounced the spell out loud.

At first, it seemed like nothing happened. But before he could start to doubt, the Stone began to glow. The red light was ghostly and spooky, casting dark shadows around the circle. At first it wasn't very strong, but it quickly became brighter and brighter, till the point when it was almost blinding. In that moment, Albus kneeled on the floor and pressed his left hand to the transmutation circle, activating it.

Blue lightning bursted from the array, the energy flowed around the stone, appearing to be fighting the red glow. There was a loud 'ZAP!' when the lightning finally reached the stone, suddenly turing purple. The light became immediately darker, but the reaction was steadily growing.

Dumbledore casted the spell again, and the Stone began to vibrate. Sensing the climax, the wizard focused again on the circle, causing the lightning to burst again, even more powerful, but still purple in coloring. The old Professor breathed with difficulty, hoping it would be over soon, because his body began to feel heavy with exhaustion. It was hard to be focusing on a spell and an alchemical transmutation at the same time.

After what felt like an eternity, a small crack appeared on the surface of the Stone. It was followed by another, and another, all slowly but continuously expanding. Finally when it was all covered in cracks, the Philosopher's Stone shattered loudly, but what followed next, was nothing like Albus Dumbledore expected.

Something exploded from the center of the Stone, like a stream floating to the sky instead of the ground. It looked like smoke, but at the same time, not like smoke at all. It was red and oozing, almost like blood, yet somewhat intangible. It filled him with horror for some reason, and it was _before_ he heard the scream.

It wasn't just any scream. It was the most terrifying, horrible sound a human could ever hear. Like an animal being ripped to shreds, like a person losing someone they loved most, like a madman in an uncontrollable rage: deep and high, loud and muffled, everything at once.

This awful sound made Dumbledore stumble backwards, causing him to bump into the wall. Pressed against it, the Professor watched with pure fear the final stage of the reaction that he was warned about, but couldn't have possibly predicted.

The substance, whatever it was, whirled around the room like a hurricane, smashing into the walls, as if searching for an escape. Then it began to concentrate again, right above the pieces of the Stone, spinning like a red glowing orb. Sparks appeared out of nowhere, similar to an alchemical reaction. The light wasn't blue though, it was astonishingly white. The scream intensified, and suddenly, there was a burst of brightness, coming from the center of the orb. It grew wider and when it became about three feet wide in radius, there was a sudden:

' **BAM!** '

Dumbledore gaped when two people fell out of it and crashed down onto the circle. At the same time, all the red substance was devoured by the light, disappearing along with the scream. For a moment there was utter silence and nothing moved. Then, the white light, which looked suspiciously like a portal, retracted swiftly and was suddenly gone, leaving everything back to normal like nothing had happened.

The Professor stared, for the first time in a long time completely dumbfounded. His eyes glanced at the shards of the Sorcerer's Stone. It had been, indeed, successfully destroyed. But Nicolas never mentioned anything about portals opening or people falling out of them! What was going on!?

Dumbledore finally turned to his unexpected guests, if they could be called that. They appeared to be teenage boys, both with golden blond hair. One of them had a brown trench coat and wore a long ponytail, the other had a grey suit and his hair were cut short, with some longer bangs obscuring his forehead. They were lying with their backs up, so he couldn't tell more details. From the way they were dressed, they had to be Muggles. But what were two Muggles doing here? Why would they be falling out of a magical/alchemical reaction? It made absolutely no sense! And Albus was usually good at finding sense in things other people considered total rubbish!

Before he could make any rational decision about what to do, one of the boys – or should he say men? – coughed, and supporting himself with his hands, slowly stood up. Dumbledore immediately composed himself and made a step forward, with his hand cautiously grasping his wand. He shouldn't be scared of those strangers, what harm could two Muggle boys do? But he was still quite shaken after the hell he just witnessed. For the first time he was glad he didn't know how Nicolas created the Stone, because if he had had to go through a similar procedure, Albus didn't envy him. Was this what Flamel was experiencing when he got close to a Dementor…? Whatever the substance which came out of the Stone was, Dumbledore hoped to never see it again.

At the same time, the young man started turning around, probably assessing his surroundings. What caught the Professor's attention was that there was no surprise in his expression, nor fear, just circumspection. He brushed some dust off his coat (now that Dumbledore noticed it, he was all covered in it) and looked at the Headmaster. He began talking.

Professor Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise. It sounded completely foreign, he could not comprehend a single word. He didn't recognize the language at all, and Albus spoke many different languages. There was something eerily familiar about the pronunciations, thought…

The boy must have guessed that he had a problem understanding him and switched to English. He spoke with such thick accent and his speech was so crude, that the wizard almost didn't understand his words at first.

"Hey, old man, you talk English language? Did you see a man running, maybe?"

Dumbledore cocked his head and looked at the stranger curiously.

"A man running?"

"Yes." He nodded with a very serious expression. "I need to find him. Now."

"Who are you looking for? What does he looks like?" Dumbledore asked, hoping that perhaps through those answers he was going to find out something about those people and what they were doing here.

"Ugh… He have a coat, black, and hair brown, and eyes brown..." He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration as he described him. Apparently, speaking English was difficult for him. "He be… ugh, is… about my age. The name is Nicolas, or Flamel, or so he say."

The wizard gawked. Two people fall out of a portal that opened while Flamel's Stone was being destroyed. At least one of them is looking for Flamel. This couldn't possibly be a coincidence.

The man frowned with confusion at Dumbledore's bewildered expression and opened his mouth to ask something, when another person decided to interrupt. The second stranger coughed, just like the first did, and stirred in an attempt to sit up. The standing man looked in his direction and froze.

" _AL_!" He shouted with distress and hurried to his side. He grabbed him under his armpits, helped him to sit, and started rambling in that strange language again. Dumbledore watched the exchange with utmost attention, trying to figure out what they could be talking about.

Both looked like they were in late teens, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old? Now that they were awake, he could see that aside the hair, they also shared identical amber-like golden eye color. Well, perhaps the one with short hair (what did the other called him? 'Al'?) had a little darker shade of gold in his eyes, but it was still almost the same. Their facial features were pretty similar too… they had to be related, and seeing how much concerned one seemed about the other, it was only logical to deduce that they were brothers.

So two brothers fell out of a white portal, and one was looking for Nicolas for some reason. It was curious, however, how the ancient alchemist had been described. "A man running, about my age, black coat." The comment about Flamel's age wasn't that strange – after all, he _did_ appear very young. But it sounded like the boy had just seen him a moment ago. Also, he said that he "needs to find him now." Why was he so eager to find him? Why the rush?

While the wizard pondered the brothers were engrossed in their own discussion. The one with a ponytail looked rather upset. Dumbledore could have sworn he was scolding the other, the way he was waving his hands and shouting with irritation. But Al – Albus decided to stick with the name his brother had inadvertently provided a moment ago – didn't back down, he stood up and started saying something with determination in his voice. Al's brother rubbed his forehead and sighed loudly, but finally calmed down. It was then when Al started to look around with confusion, apparently just noticing that he doesn't recognize his environment. His golden eyes met Dumbledore's and he gasped in surprise. The Professor was still disorientated himself (which was strange, as he usually knew what he was doing and rarely felt so off-balance) but decided to try for good impression. He smiled in a way a grandfather would at his grandson.

"Hello. My name is Albus Dumbledore. What are your names?"

Al looked at him with bewilderment like he just pulled a pumpkin out of his ear. He turned to his brother and asked something in the foreign language they were both using.

The brother also looked surprised, but for a different reason. "'Albus Double Door'? That is your name?"

"Yes." Dumbledore ignored the mispronunciation, but being a man with a great sense of humor, he couldn't help but smile at the way his name sounded in the stranger's mouth.

The young man blinked twice, then… started laughing.

"Bhuahahahahaha! Huahahahahaha!" He bent and had to grab his stomach from laughing to hard. "S-sorry, old man, but… Ghahahahaha!"

Al asked something in their language, sounding confused, probably because he didn't know why the other was laughing.

"Hahahahaha!" The boy finally calmed down a bit and whipped away tears of laughter. "Sorry for that, old man. Your name is just so hilarious!"

"I understand," Dumbledore smirked, not offended. He had countless people, many of which were teenagers, making fun of him and his name before, so it hardly bothered him. The old wizard was far too eccentric to care about it anyway. Who else wore purple robes in the middle of London, offered everyone lemon drops and shamelessly enjoyed Muggle embroidery magazines? "What's your name?"

"My name? Edward… hihi… Elric." Edward couldn't help but giggle for the last time. "This is my brother, Alphonse Elric. Sorry, but he not talk English language. I can only little."

"It is alright." Dumbledore assured, speaking slowly so the young man, whose name was apparently Edward, would understand him. "You say you are looking for Nicolas Flamel?"

In an instant, Edward Elric became serious. He nodded.

"You did see him? He just did running away."

"Really?" The wizard was only getting more and more curious. "Why are you looking for him?"

Edward narrowed his eyes and looked hard at the Professor.

"He did take something." He explained. "Something that is not his. We need to get it back."

"Oh, he took something? What did he take?" Now that was surprising. Are these boys accusing Nicolas of theft? Albus had never imagined the kind-hearted, a tad eccentric and very secretive alchemist would do something like that. But he needed to find out more to completely rule it out and decide that they were lying.

"Not important. You did… ugh, did you… see him? He did running away, just now, it should be easy to see him."

"You're chasing him?" Asked Professor Dumbledore for clarification. "He took something from you and you are going after him?"

"Right."

"I cannot help you." He decided to cover for Flamel, at least for now, until he got a clearer explanation. "He was not here."

Edward's face twisted in anger and disappointment. He swore loudly looked down for the nearest object to kick in his frustration. By doing so, something else came to his attention.

Both brothers noticed now the transmutation circle on the floor, and they appeared quite shocked. Alphonse crouched to take a closer look while Edward stepped into the center (Albus noticed how deliberate and calculated his steps were, to avoid smudging the chalk) and inspected the shards of the Philosopher's Stone.

"Hey, Al..." He called his brother who immediately joined his side. Alphonse gasped and took a piece into his hand.

"Brother…?"

They exchanged anxious looks while Dumbledore slowly stepped closer. The brothers obviously recognized what they were looking at, or at least they thought they did, because both of them looked at the Professor at the same time, with identical faces of distrust.

"What is this, Double Door?" Edward growled angrily. Dumbledore stopped and looked at them with a soft expression, in order to reassure them that they had nothing to be afraid of. He asked politely:

"What's wrong?"

"What is this?" The man pointed at the circle. Then he picked up one of the pieces of the Stone and showed to him, almost shoving it into his face. "This is human alchemy."

"What do you mean?"

"You pretend to not know!? Human alchemy!" Edward shouted, stepping forward with fury. "How dare you! Did you kill people to make it?"

"What…?" Dumbledore was now thoroughly confused. What was the boy talking about? Human alchemy? Killing? As far as he knew, this was a transmutation circle which had the purpose of destroying the Philosopher's Stone, and just that. Were they mistaking it for something else?

And most importantly, how did two teenage boys know about alchemy?

Edward's patience had run out. He grabbed the Professor and pushed him against the wall. His brother called out, probably for him to stop, but he was ignored.

"Talk the truth. What did you do here? What is the meaning of this?" The fierce golden eyes were piercing into the blue ones, scrutinizing and full of fury. Dumbledore stared into those eyes thoughtfully. He was not afraid, because he still had a wand in his hand and could use a disarming charm on the Muggle any time, he was intrigued by what he saw in those eyes. Despite being so young, there was maturity Edward's eyes, traces of hurt, pain, great loss, but also strength, determination, purpose in life, and bravery. The wizard knew instantly that this young man had gone through a lot in his childhood and it affected him greatly, but he could also sense that most of those experiences resulted in him becoming stronger and smarter. Those weren't eyes of a child… no, they were eyes of an old, wise man.

"What do you think I did?" Dumbledore asked gently and this response surprised Edward. Slowly, the man let go of his robe and took a step back, but his glare didn't lessen and his pose was still full of distrust.

"If you did not do human alchemy, then what…?" Edward turned, looking at the circle again, analyzing it once again with his gaze quickly running over it. Alphonse collected all the pieces of the Sorcerer's Stone and walked up to them. He said something in that foreign language (which, each time Dumbledore heard it, sounded more and more familiar) and showed them to his brother, how frowned and looked at them as if he was trying to figure something out.

"Is this..." Suddenly he jerked, his eyes widened and he looked back at Dumbledore, gaping in amazement. "...is this… a Philosopher's Stone?"

Albus stoke his beard and looked at the young man, rather impressed. "How did you know?"

Edward shook his head, not willing to explain. He insisted: "Is it really the Philosopher's Stone? What did you do? Did you destroy it?"

The wizard paused before replying to this question, wondering if the answer is going to anger of please the man. Eventually he nodded and answered: "Yes, I did."

Edward stared at him for a moment with a strange expression and Dumbledore tried to figure out what it meant. Was it shock? Was it sadness? Was it relief? It was hard to tell, the young man was obviously concealing his emotions, and was quite skilled at it. Dumbledore didn't dare to cast Legilimency to see his true thoughts, at least not yet. He still didn't know what he was dealing with here, so he just patiently waited.

Alphonse spoke and his brother turned to him, then said something in a soft, quiet voice. Al looked contemplative and then, he let out a deep breath in apparent relief. So, Albus concluded, they didn't want the Philosopher's Stone. They were glad it was destroyed. But why were they so mad before when they looked at the circle? Did it remind them of something? He doubted they could have seen it before, since Flamel was the best alchemist in the world and very reluctant to share his secrets (in all his long years he only shared his knowledge of alchemy with a handful of students).

"This… was his, right?" Edward asked Dumbledore and he looked at him. "Nicolas. His Stone. You did destroy his Stone. Right?"

"Yes."

"Why?" The question sounded almost like he was an Auror questioning a suspect regarding a crime. He even stood straight like a solider, Dumbledore noted. Interesting.

"Because he asked me to."

"He asked you to?" He repeated incredulously. He scowled. "No way. Talk the truth."

"I am telling you the truth, Edward Elric," Dumbledore didn't avert his eyes from the angry glare for a second, to prove he was not lying. He saw no reason to lie about it. These boys, whoever they were, had some dealings with Nicolas, and whatever they wanted good or harm, it was only fair to tell them the truth. There had only been one Sorcerer's Stone, it was now gone. There was nothing anybody could do about that fact. "The Stone was too dangerous. We decided it needed to be done."

"'We'? You know Nicolas?" Edward asked suspiciously.

"Yes, I've known him for a long time. He is a friend of mine."

This information clearly didn't win Dumbledore any trust points. Edward folded his arms and watched him with questioning look for a moment.

"I do not believe you. Nicolas would not want to destroy the Stone." He said almost smugly, like he'd caught him. "He did say so."

"Really?" Dumbledore asked, smiling good-naturedly. "Do you know Nicolas?"

Edward huffed with annoyance.

"Stupid kid. He understands nothing. I did try to tell him, but, he did not listen."

The wizard blinked in surprise. From what was said so far, it was already obvious that they knew each other, so he asked merely to find out what kind of relation these two had to Flamel and his Stone. But he didn't expect this man to be so… condescending towards one of the wisest wizards in the world. Not to mention the oldest one. And Edward called him a _'stupid kid'_!

"He says he wants it to save someone," he continued, ignoring Dumbledore's reaction, "and I understand that." He glanced at his brother with protectiveness in his eyes. "But he not knows about the price. He thinks he knows, but not really. He not cares what the person he loves would feel, if they would know about the price."

"The price?"

"You did destroy the Stone." Edward looked at him with a hard expression, his lips pressed grimly. "Then you should know about the price. What is... inside the Stone."

Dumbledore then remembered the scream when the Philosopher's Stone cracked and a cold shiver went down his spine. There was something truly _evil_ inside that Stone, something terrifying. Why Nicolas never said anything? Was that the reason why he'd been so secretive about it?

Albus couldn't allow himself to be ignorant any longer. This Stone had been in Hogwarts for several months, and because of his trust in his friend, he never considered inquiring if the Stone _itself_ was dangerous in any way. Now, he needed to know, for the safety of his school and students. He turned to the Elric brothers and asked urgently:

"What was that? What is this 'price' you're talking about?"

The blond man looked at Alphonse and asked him something, probably about his opinion, because he only nodded before Edward turned back to Dumbledore and said gloomily:

"To make a Stone like that you need human lives… and many of them."

Breath was caught in his throat for a moment as Dumbledore stared. Human lives? How could it… How could Nicolas…?

"Is it true?" He couldn't stop himself from saying that out loud, though he really didn't mean to. This revelation was simply too awful to swallow. Lives of people? This was the great secret behind the Sorcerer's Stone? This is what it took to create the Elixir of Life? It was unbelievable, but at the same time, it made revoltingly too much sense. Flamel told him many times that alchemy relied on the rule of Equivalent Exchange… and what could be equal to a prolonged lifespan?

"It is." With Edward's voice being so serious and his golden eyes so grave, the wizard couldn't doubt that he was being sincere. "I did try to tell him, that those souls are still inside, and they feel pain, but he did not listen." The young man's hands clenched into fists. "He just… He acts like his own problems only matter. I know how hard it is to see someone you love in pain, but that is no excuse. You should not use any means to do what you want."

Albus didn't respond, he was struck speechless.

"You did not know, did you?" Edward asked quietly, seeing how pale and shocked the man in front of him looked. "Well, at least you did help them." He brought a shard in closer to examine it. "They are free now."

The wizard swallowed, feeling more than slightly sick in the stomach. By "they", the boy must have meant… No, no way. Nicolas would never… How could he even consider…

"Are you certain?" He asked, carefully recollecting himself. "Are you sure Nicolas used human lives to… create a Stone?"

Much to his surprise, Edward snorted. He looked at the old Professor with amusement, like he just said something utterly ridiculous.

"You think _Nicolas_ did make the Philosopher's Stone?" He asked, lifting his eyebrows. "Is that what he did tell you?"

"What?" Dumbledore's jaw dropped. This was the last response he expected to hear. "You're telling me Nicolas _didn't_ create the Stone?"

"Of course not! He is pretty stupid, but not that stupid!" Edward laughed humorlessly. "If he did, I would kill him." His eyes darkened. Dumbledore knew that wasn't just an empty threat. This man looked quite dangerous when angered. The wizard discreetly tightened his hold on the wand.

"If he didn't, then who did?" He inquired. Those were some mind-blowing informations the blond was telling him. Flamel had always claimed to be the only creator of the Philosopher's Stone. He didn't mention anybody helping him, not even an assistant or a research partner. Was it all just one giant lie?

"It not matters." Edward shrugged. "The Stone is gone, and it is a good thing, believe me."

Suddenly he frowned like something just occurred to him. He turned his head around, stopped for a moment to look at his puzzled brother (who was unfortunate to not understand English), and finally directed his eyes back at Dumbledore. He scratched his head and asked with a slight frown:

"Ugh... Where are we anyway, old man?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> Well, let's get this ball rolling!
> 
> This beautiful picture used as a cover was made by Irrel, and it's called "Elric Brothers". Give all credit to this wonderful artist on Deviantart.
> 
> You're probably confused when exactly this story happens. From Ed and Al's perspective, it happens a few years after the Promised Day. Edward is 21 and Alphonse 20 - Dumbledore's wrong about their ages, 'cause they look young (get ready for "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SMALL!?" rants!), Ed is already married to Winry and they're expecting their first baby (which is going to be important in the plot), while Alphonse just proposed to May Chang (I know the series never confirmed if those two eventually got married, but I assume so, because in the manga, May is in the last family photo. Why would she be there if she didn't end up with Al? Besides, everything else points in that direction, so I treat them as canon).
> 
> From Harry Potter's world's perspective, this is right after Harry's confrontation with Quirrel (...obviously), one day before he wakes up in the hospital wing.
> 
> If you're confused as to why both of the Elrics fell out of a portal or why the portal opened in the first place… well, it's all going to be explained.
> 
> Everybody always makes it that Ed gets to another world through the Gate of Truth… well, not in this story! It's all completely unrelated to the Gate! Hah, see, I am being ORIGINAL! :D
> 
> Don't worry, it's all going to make sense. And it won't be something stupid, like "oops, I just jumped into a portal to another universe, and I'll get back by an accident too!" No no no, it was no accident, there's not going to be anything accidental. It'll all come together.
> 
> Please, read on and enjoy… because that's what creativity is all about! ;)


	2. Meeting old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how Ed and Al ended up in Dumbledore's office, and how Ed got to know Nicolas Flamel. Part 1/3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!!!

Edward scratched his head and asked with a slight frown:

"Ugh... Where are we anyway, old man?"

* * *

_Two days earlier…_

* * *

"Hey General, long time no see!"

Edward Elric marched into the military office with a smirk on his face. Ah, how much time passed since the last time he'd been here! He felt nostalgic. Sometimes, Ed was even willing to admit that overall, he missed the days when he was a State Alchemist. Sure, he'd been almost killed multiple times, severely injured repetitively, traumatized by witnessing more than a couple of deaths, and selected as a Human Sacrifice for a band of crazy Homunculi who wanted to take over the world, but hey! At least he couldn't say it wasn't exciting, right?

Besides, it wasn't the pain that he was missing, but the travels. The good times, the years spent together with Al as they searched for the Philosopher's Stone. After the Promised Day, they returned to Resembool and stayed put for almost two years. It was a nice change, and Ed would be lying if he said he didn't like being able to go back home and relax, especially after all the craziness they went through. He officially retired as a State Alchemist, since he gave up his ability to perform alchemy in exchange for Alphonse's body. So, it would seem that their journey had ended.

However, even though they finally achieved everything they wanted since the day they performed Human Transmutation, there was still this longing for adventure in their souls. So, they decided to split in separate ways for a while. There was just so much of the world left to explore: to go places they hadn't been to in Amestris, to see foreign countries, to learn different styles of alchemy and fighting techniques, and to meet many, many, many people. The last one was the first thing Ed and Al did. They met with everyone who helped them during their quest and made sure they gave them a proper 'thank you'. They divided this mission between each other in half: Edward chose to go West while Alphonse traveled East from Central. After that, they passed the opposite borders. Ed found himself in Creta, which was at peace with Amestris ever since General Grumman became the Fuhrer. Al, along with his friends May, Zampano and Jerso, had to cross the desert in order to reach the mighty country of Xing, now ruled by Emperor Ling Yao.

Even without alchemy, Edward restlessly continued his research. He learned amazing things during this one year of travel… but something was pulling him back. He'd never expect himself to become homesick so soon, especially considering that he and Alphonse were doing this ever since they were twelve and eleven. But he was used to coming back to Resembool for maintenance from time to time. Not to mention, this was the first time he was separated from everyone he knew for such a long period of time. And now, after what transpired between him and Winry at the train station, he suddenly was missing her more than ever. Finally Ed gave up on the struggle and returned to his hometown. Soon, he wrote a letter to Al, asking him if he could cut his trip to Xing short.

After all, he wouldn't have anyone for his Best Man but his little brother.

Of course Alphonse came and after the wedding, Edward and Winry Elric settled down in Resembool for good. Ed didn't know at first what to do with himself, now that he had his own family but no job: he couldn't just let Winry do all the work… even though automail business provided them a good amount of money, and with the Rockbell Automail's reputation, they could easily get by with only that. But Ed's problem quickly solved himself, when numerous letters started coming in, many from prestigious universities and State Alchemist libraries, requesting his expertise in alchemy. Ed didn't have to leave Resembool to write them back. He also started writing books. By pouring down his ideas, experiences and some of his adventures onto the paper, he quickly earned himself the title of number one authority on alchemy in Amestris. It might have been partly for the fact that he was already well known as 'the Hero of the People', thought. Still, the readers loved him. Sometimes, the adoration was _too_ explicit: he got far too many letters of informal nature from complete strangers (mostly females), and he couldn't show up in Central without being stalked by a number of fangirls. What was those girls' problem?! He was _married_ , for Truth's sake!

Elsewhere, Alphonse studied alkahestry under the wing of princess May of the Chang clan. Unsurprisingly, he quickly surpassed his teacher, much to May's annoyance. In spite of that, the two grew closer and Al started considering starting a family of his own. After his brother's wedding, Al returned to Xing, but only for a couple of months, to finish all the unwrapped business and to close his research. Among his greatest accomplishments beside mastering alkahestry, he managed to find a cure for Jerso and Zampano's conditions, and the two friends were no longer forced to suffer being chimeras. Following those successes, Alphonse Elric proposed to May Chang and asked her if she wanted to return to Amestris with him. Naturally, the answer he received was "yes" (along with a very passionate kiss).

And this is how both of the brothers, four years after the Promised Day, ended up back in their hometown. While Al and May were preparing for their wedding and building their own house, next to the other Elric family, Edward and Winry started preparing for another event, that would occur in just a couple of months.

But then, their peace was interrupted by a call from Central. It was for Edward. About something urgent. Because the person who called was somebody he knew (and owed, much to Ed's dismay), he had no choice but to pack up and go to the Central Headquarters immediately.

"Long time no see, Fullmetal." Greeted General Roy Mustang, sitting at his desk like a king on his throne.

Ed looked at the man in front of him: he hadn't changed that much. His hairstyle was still messy, and his paperwork still piling up on the desk. Beside the extra stars on his uniform, the only new addition to his appearance was a thin mustache. No visible injuries, as Ed feared, but obviously something was troubling him. Edward knew this frown, those gloved hands folded in front: back when he worked for the irritating Colonel, it meant 'new mission, something bad'. Darn it. He promised Winry he would decline if it was something too dangerous. He hoped it wouldn't come to this.

"I see life's been treating you well," Ed said lightly "you don't look as _old_ as you are."

"I could say the same about you. You're not nearly as _short_ as you used to be." Mustang teased with a smirk.

Edward grinned, but for the sake of the 'good ol' times', he responded loudly:

"Who do you think you're calling smaller than your mustache, _General_ jerk? I'm practically as tall as you now!"

Roy shook his head and sighed.

"It's good to see you again." He admitted with fondness. But, he wouldn't be Mustang if a compliment didn't go with a tease attached to it. So he added: "You could say that we missed your input, just a _little_ bit."

Ed threw himself on the couch and replied:

"Yeah, because you old dogs are all so useless without my help!"

Mustang muttered ' _U_ _seless…?_ ' under his breath, dejected. Ed laughed.

"Alright, Mustang, how are thing going in Central?"

"You could say that everything is going just fine," Roy said, but there was still this worried frown on his face that Ed didn't like. "Fuhrer Grumman allowed me to take over the restoration of Ishval, so I've been quite busy-"

"How are you and Hawkeye doing?" Edward interrupted with a mischievous glimmer in his eye.

"Hawkeye?" Mustang was surprised with this sudden change of subject. "She's well. You know she's been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. Along with me being promoted to General."

"You guys still **working** together?"

Roy didn't like the emphasis for some reason.

"Yes, of course we are. Why?"

"Ah, I was just wondering," Ed smiled innocently. _Too_ innocently. "if you guys are making any plans or anything."

"'Plans'?" The General frowned in confusion.

"There are rumors about new law coming out soon, you know."

"What are you getting at?"

"I had a small chat with the Fuhrer some time ago." Edward explained, grinning at his former commanding officer. "We talked how anti-fraternization laws are putting some of our good soldiers down. I suggested that maybe it's time to set things straight. He said it's a marvelous idea."

It took Mustang about five seconds to comprehend what Ed was talking about. When he did, his jaw slightly dropped, shaping his mouth in a small 'o', and a pink blush crept onto his cheeks.

"You're welcome!" Ed said cheerfully with a wink. "It was just so sad, seeing you getting old alone. Look at me, you're almost twice my age and I've been married for a year now! With luck, you and Hawkeye can get married before I become a father."

"Fullmetal!" Mustang finally blurted out, now entirely red on the face.

"What? You're in love with her, aren't you? It's not like it's a secret or anything. And besides," Ed's teasing smile became warm "Hughes would be happy for you guys. He always wanted you to get yourself a wife."

While Roy sputtered, unable to utter a coherent sentence, Edward walked to his desk and grabbed the first paper from the top.

"So what is it that you called me here for?" He sat back on the couch. "If it's proposal advice, forget it. You need to man up and do it yourself."

It took Mustang a good while to recompose himself. After he cleaned his throat three or four times, he grumbled:

"...you're a cheeky, obnoxious brat, you know that?"

"Yeah yeah, you'll thank me another time." Ed waved his hand not lifting his eyes from the paper.

"Wait a second. You mentioned something about becoming a father?"

Edward turned his head and said:

"Oh, right, you haven't heard yet!" His expression showed a mixture of pride and anxiety. "Me and Winry are going to be parents soon." He was very happy about becoming a dad, but also quite nervous. Then again, what parent wasn't?

"Well, congratulations, Edward." Said Mustang sincerely. Then, he took his opportunity of revenge, for the embarrassment he had to suffer through a moment ago: "Let's just hope your kids won't be as vertically challenged as you were. It would be quite a shame."

Ed fumed while Roy enjoyed his victory with a smug look on his face. It was much harder to vex the kid than it used to be, now that Ed matured and _actually_ grew.

"So what is this all about?" Edward asked again after a beat, turning his attention back to the paper. "'Theft'? Doesn't look as serious as you made it sound through the phone."

"They don't specify there what was stolen," Mustang answered, his easy-going demeanor vanishing and being replaced by that familiar worried frown. "This is a top secret information. If anybody finds out, the military is going to be in deep trouble."

"Alright, but it doesn't explain why you need **me** to track them down." Ed looked at him questionably. "You have a lot of men at your disposal, right? And you trust your team. So why me?"

"First, you should know what exactly was stolen..." Roy visibly tensed. "You won't be happy to hear it."

Edward's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Was it one of the government's illegal weapons?"

"You could say that..." Mustang's hand ran through his hair. He sighed. "We didn't know it still existed. We assumed that everything underneath the Headquarters was cleaned out and there was nothing left. Apparently, we were wrong. One was overlooked."

"'One' what exactly, Mustang?"

The golden eyes met the dark onyx ones, demanding an answer. There was a brief, unsettling silence.

"...a Philosopher's Stone."

The former Fullmetal Alchemist swore loudly as he jumped up from the couch. The General rubbed his forehead wearily.

"We've been chasing the thief for a week now." He continued. "He's almost impossible to catch."

"Do you know just **what** he wants the Stone for?"

"We don't know. All we know that he is using some sort of technique to avoid being caught. We've spread the men all over Central. But each time we corner him, he somehow escapes."

"Do you have a description of him?"

"Here." Roy handed a profile and said: "Apparently, this person is an acquaintance of yours. This is why I called you to help us. We hope that maybe you know something about the alchemy he uses, since you and Alphonse have such vast knowledge of foreign practices."

Edward stared at the profile, stumped.

"Wh… What?" He stuttered, looking at Mustang in shock. "Are you sure? He… Him?"

"So you _do_ know him?"

Ed nodded numbly.

"Do you know anything about how he escapes, no matter how many MP's we send after him?" Roy asked with frustration in his voice. They had never dealt wit such an infuriating criminal. True, there had been many difficult criminals in Mustang's military career, for example Scar the State Alchemist killer (who was never caught… and a man eerily resembling him was helping rebuilding Ishval now). But those criminals were usually just good at hiding. This man, however, was laughably easy to track, but every damn time they surrounded the building he was in, he vanished. They didn't have the slightest clue on how he accomplished that, he was just gone, like a ghost. It was driving them insane.

"I… might have an idea..." Ed mumbled, still not over the fact that it was _that_ person.

Mustang regarded his ex-subordinate thoughtfully. Fullmetal seemed really shocked to discover the identity of the thief. Roy'd expected him to get mad, or throw a temper tantrum, or angrily deny that one of his friends would commit such a crime. But Edward just stared somewhere over his shoulder, quietly processing the information.

"Can you tell me what you know about him?" The General asked carefully.

Ed sighed.

"It's kind of a long story, actually." He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "The first time we met, I think it was about seven years ago..."

* * *

Thirteen year old Edward Elric was striding through empty alleys of the West City. He promised Al he would be back in the hotel before sundown, and it was getting dark now. He bit his lip, feeling guilty.

"How was I supposed to know those guys would show up and try to kidnap that girl?" He grumbled to himself under his breath, trying to justify his tardiness. He hated breaking curfews with Alphonse. His little brother must have been worried sick about him. "Just one thing after another… Is this city inhabited only by criminals or something?"

A startled cry reached his ears, causing him to stop abruptly. Angrily, he cursed at his misfortune.

"Not again…! Argh, sorry, Al..."

He run to the alley where he heard the scream from. Just like he expected, there were five people there, surrounding a man and pushing against a wall.

"No, please! I don't have any money!" He whimpered, holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture. Edward could tell by his accent that he was a foreigner.

"Oh, yeah? We'll see about that." One of the gangsters, probably the leader, pressed a knife against his throat. "Search his pockets!"

" **Hold it right there!** "

All of the men froze and turned. Ed boldly stepped forward.

"Have you no shame? Five against one? That's just low." He narrowed his eyes at them. The golden orbs were glowing with with fire of righteous anger.

The leader snorted.

"You have some guts, boy, to step in like this." He pointed the weapon in his direction. "You're either very brave or extremely stupid. But I'm feeling merciful today, so-"

Ed clapped his hands and pressed them against the wall. A huge stone fist emerged and grabbed the gangster, causing him to drop the knife with a startled squeak.

"You're lucky _I'm_ feeling merciful today, you bastard," the alchemist snarled, "because _normally_ I would beat you up first, and _then_ incapacitate you!"

The others took a step back, staring at the boy in fear.

"W-who the hell are you?!" One of them shouted, reaching his own blade and putting it between Ed and himself. His hands were shaking. "How did you do that?! You used alchemy without a transmutation circle!"

"Idiot!" Another screamed. "Don't you see? A short, blond boy, with golden eyes… He's Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist! He's a State Alchemist!"

"What?!" A couple of jaws dropped.

Edward reddened in anger.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A PINT-SIZED MIDGET WHO CAN'T EVEN REACH THE SINK?!" The State Alchemist yelled, clapping his hands again and putting them on the ground.

The reaction was instantaneous: the ground became fluid, and the four criminals sunk to the knees in the concrete, as if it was quicksand. They screamed and tried to get out of it, with no result.

"You'll have to wait till the MP's arrive," Ed waved them of, turing with a flare as his red coat fluttered in the wind behind him. "but they've been busy lately, so it might take a while."

"W-wait!"

Ed stopped in mid-step and turned his head. The man he jut saved came closer. He was young, about twenty one years old. His skin was pale, with a few freckles on the nose, he had brown hair and hazel-brown eyes. There wasn't anything extraordinary about his appearance, his clothes were torn on the edges and a little too big, like they used to belong to someone else. His Amestrian was impeccable, but the way he said words unmistakably marked him as a foreigner. He looked helpless, lost and scared. His hands were still trembling, probably in aftermath to having a blade next to the throat.

"T-thank you!" He stuttered, and took a deep breath to calm down. "Thank you so much!"

Usually Edward liked the praise and stuff (even if sometimes it just made him feel awkward), but he didn't have the time. Al was waiting, and he probably was going to be mad for Ed being late. So, the teenage alchemist just asked:

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, but..." The man reached his pocket and his eyes widened. "Oh, no!"

"What's wrong?"

"Where did it go?" The brown haired man looked at the ground, searching for something frantically. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"My- there!" He exclaimed with relief, picking up a… stick. Ed lifted his eyebrows. What was so special about a wooden stick? "Oh, thank goodness, I thought I lost it…"

"What is that?"

"Oh, nothing!" The foreigner quickly put it back into his pocket. "Just a gift from a family member, that's all…"

"Alright then." Ed shrugged once more and proceed to leave. "You better get home, it's dangerous out here."

"Wait!"

Ed stopped again and growled impatiently.

"What is it _now_?"

"Do… do you know where I should go?" The man looked at his feet somehow ashamed. "I don't know this place… and I don't know where I can stay for the night."

The Fullmetal Alchemist sighed with annoyance. Seriously, was **everyone** trying to make him late tonight? Come on, he didn't have time for this! How was he going to explain to Al that this guy was…

_...wait a second._

An ingenious idea appeared in Ed's brilliant head. He smirked, almost evilly. He turned to the brown haired foreigner.

"Why of course, I would love to help you!" Edward declared and sent him an over-the-top-cheerful grin. The man blinked, puzzled by this sudden change of attitude.

"You would?"

"Yes, naturally! I am a State Alchemist, after all! 'Alchemist be thou for the people', is our motto! Helping is what we do!" He grabbed him by his arm and started dragging him in the direction of the hotel.

"T-that's nice of you..." The young man said, but eyed him with confusion and a bit of suspicion. He must have thought Ed was a little crazy.

"It's nothing, Mr…."

"...Nicolas."

"Nicolas? Just that?"

"Yes."

"Don't you have a last name?"

"Well… no." Nicolas answered awkwardly. "My parents never gave me one."

"Huh." Ed was a little surprised, but it wasn't unheard of. Commoners in countries like Xing, who didn't belong in any of the royal clans, didn't have any last names. But Nicolas didn't look Xingese. "Where are you from?"

"Uh… far, far away." The man replied reluctantly.

"What is your first language, then?"

"English."

"English?" Ed stopped and looked at him curiously. "I've never heard of it."

"Yeah, like I said… I'm from far away."

"Why did you come to Amestris, Nicolas?" He asked, drilling information out of the stranger as they walked.

 _The more I find out about him, the better…_ Ed thought cunningly. _Al would be mad at me if I told him I was late because I was getting into fights… but if I tell him that I helped a man in need…!_

"I, uh, I wanted to… do… research. Yes!" Nicolas looked proud with himself for some reason. "I wanted to learn this… alchemy, that you State Alchemists do."

"Ah, you study alchemy? Fantastic!" Edward beamed. "Have you ever heard about the Philosopher's Stone?"

"About what?"

"Never mind." He hid his disappointment, "Tell me Nicolas, do you like cats?"

Nicolas looked at him with a blank expression.

"...what?"

"It's a simple question!"

"Yeah, I do. Why?" He asked, bewildered.

"Ah, no reason!"

Inwardly, Ed snickered. Perfect. With this 'stray' he picked up out of **goodness of his heart** , his little brother might just forgive him. Al was not going to murder him tonight.

* * *

"Brother, what took you so long? I was so worried!"

Alphonse was towering over Ed like a mountain of doom. The Fullmetal Alchemist shrunk, suddenly feeling really, really small ( _which he was NOT!_ ).

"Uh, hey, Al." He said weakly. "Sorry for being late."

"It's been two hours past sundown! Where were you?!"

"Uh, ah, you see…! I was helping my good friend Nicolas here!" Ed stood behind equally intimidated foreigner and pushed him forward. Nicolas shot him a scared 'what-the-heck-is-going-on!?' glance. "You see, he was lost and he needed to find a way to a hotel, because he's out of town and doesn't know where else to stay."

"Is it true what Brother says, Mr. Nicolas?"

Nicolas looked up nervously at the seven feet tall suit of armor. He gulped.

"Ugh, y-yes!" He said, with his voice shaking. "It's true, sir! And not only that, he saved me from muggers!" He added quickly, seeing Edward's prompting look. "I thought I was done for when he suddenly just stepped in, clapped his hand, and then, they were held to the ground… just like that!" He illustrated it with his arms with a bit of excitement. "It was amazing!"

There was a short silence. Al had no face to show expressions with, but Ed could tell he was really, _really_ mad, judging from the way he clenched his glove-hands into fists.

"You... were... _fighting_?!"

Ed flinched.

"Hey, Al, I was saving his life! Don't act like I'm the bad guy here!" He protested.

"Brother, were you _looking_ for trouble again?"

" _NO!_ I was just a little lost myself and I bumped into them! That's all, I swear!"

"You promised me you wouldn't rush into fights like that! You were just released from a hospital, you're not up to your full strength yet!" Al ranted, gradually sounding more concerned and worried than actually angry. "What would you do if your automail suddenly broke? You could have gotten seriously hurt!"

"Why would it break?! It's Winry's! It won't just break for no reason!"

"You managed to break you automail **twice** since you got it!" Al shot back.

"Well each time it was completely justified!" Ed yelled.

The two brothers continued their argument while Nicolas stood awkwardly on the side. Finally, he gathered his courage. He took a step forward and interrupted timidly:

"Um… excuse me?"

They immediately quieted down. Both of them turned to face the foreigner.

"I'm sorry to ask, but..." Nicolas rubbed his hands nervously, looking at the wall. "I kind of don't have any money, so..."

For a moment no one said anything. Ed facepalmed. _Was this guy for real?!_

"Brother…" Al broke the silence, with a tone that left no doubt _who_ would be the person to cover the bill.

"What?! First I save him, now I gotta pay for him?!" Ed pulled his hair in frustration. _The_ _world is_ _so_ _not fair!_

"It's _you_ who brought him here, Brother." Al pointed out.

 _Argh, that's right_. There was no backing out now. Ed made an exaggerated sigh of frustration.

"...Fine."

"Thank you so much!" Nicolas smiled widely, looking genuinely grateful. Seeing that Al was no longer furious and scary, he walked up to the armor with an extended arm. "I believe I haven't introduced myself yet, sir knight. My name is Nicolas, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm Alphonse, but you can just call me Al." The boy responded politely and accepted the hand. 'Sir knight', that was a new one.

"I'm honored." Nicolas shook the glove and asked: "So, are you Mr. Edward Elric's older brother?"

Ed frowned dangerously, with a dark aura suddenly appearing around him. Nicolas shied away, uncertain of what he had said to set off the **short** -tempered ( _somewhere in_ _East City_ _, Mustang smirked_ ) alchemist.

"Oh, uh, heh heh, I mean..." Nicolas stammered in fear. The teenager could look really scary when he wanted to… Nicolas still had a fresh image in mind of how Ed single-handedly disarmed five men. He shuddered and directed his look at Alphonse, begging for help.

"I'm his younger brother." Al quickly explained, to save Nicolas from Ed's wrath.

"My apologies! I had no idea!" Nicolas assured, paling in face of still quite intimidating Ed. "It's just, you look so tall and mighty in that armor..." He said to Al in an apologetic tone.

Al cocked his metal head, puzzled by such anarchic-sounding statement.

"Um, thank you…?"

Ed soon calmed down, seeing that the man didn't intend to insult his **perfectly average** height any further. Nicolas could finally relax. He asked Al another question:

"I see both of you are powerful fighters for justice. I'm so lucky to meet such honorable people as yourselves… Are you a State Alchemist too, Mr. Alphonse?"

"No, I'm not." Al responded, embarrassed. "Brother is the Fullmetal Alchemist. I'm just an ordinary alchemist.

"You're not an ordinary alchemist, Al." Edward suddenly spoke, gathering the attention of both Al and Nicolas. The look in his eye was so serious it could be almost considered a glare. "You are a great one. The only reason why they accepted me as a State Alchemist is because I can transmute without a transmutation circle. Beside that, I'm no better than you."

Al fiddled with his hands, looking at the floor. For an average viewer, it was hard to know what he was thinking. But Ed, who spent over two years reading Al and his feelings in this body, could easily tell that his little brother was upset. Ed stepped closer.

"Oh, Brother, you know it's not true..."

"Cut it, Al!" He punched Al into his chest with the right fist, in their common gesture of reassurance. Because ever since Al lost his body, he couldn't feel, so Ed used his automail arm to show affection. If his little brother couldn't enjoy physical comfort, neither would he.

Nicolas jumped a bit at the metallic echo. He couldn't have known that Ed's gloved hand was made of steel, so he didn't expect the contact to be so loud.

"I've never beat you in a fight." Ed continued.

"That's because we don't use alchemy when we spar." Al said, still sounding a bit sad.

"Still! Even back before the..." Ed traced off, glancing at Nicolas quickly. "...I mean… Even back when we were kids, you always won. Every single time."

Edward looked into the glowing orbs in Al's helmet and his harshness disappeared. He smiled softly.

"You're not ordinary. You're amazing, Al. Do you think I'd ever make it here without you? All these times when you saved my skin… stepped in when as were getting rough… brought me to the hospital after I got injured?"

"You get injured because you're so reckless, Brother." Ed's comforting was working. There was amusement in Al's voice.

Ed huffed, pretending to be irritated.

"I'm not reckless! I just get terrible luck. There's a difference!"

"Right, you have terrible luck _and_ you're reckless."

The brothers continued their sibling bickering as they went to the dining room, and Nicolas followed. The foreigner and the State Alchemist sat at an empty table, while Al offered to go get the food. After the younger Elric left, Nicolas turned to Ed with a strangely awed expression.

"What?" Ed raised his eyebrow at him.

"You two are really close, huh?"

"Hm?" He blinked, not understanding what Nicolas was getting at. It never occurred to him that from other people's perspective, the bond he and Al shared was unusual and special. He just assumed all siblings acted this way. So Ed shrugged like it was no big deal. "We just stick together. That's what brothers do."

"If you don't mind me asking..." Nicolas leaned out of his chair, to get a better look at Edward's back. "What does your family crest mean?"

Ed frowned at Nicolas, because he had no idea what he was talking about.

"Family crest?"

"The symbol on your coat." The man clarified. "I noticed your brother has it on the armor, too, on his left shoulder."

"Ah, this?" Fullmetal grabbed the material and straightened, it to show a black snake on a cross. "It's called a Flamel Cross. It's the symbol of alchemy. We inherited it from our teacher."

Nicolas looked thoughtful.

"I was wondering, if you ever heard about Salazar Slytherin?"

"'Slytherin'?" Ed quickly searched his head for anything similar, but found no match. "Nope. Doesn't ring a bell."

"But of course... although with your bravery, and the red coat, you would be more fitting in Griffindor..." Nicolas muttered to himself. Seeing Ed's questioning gaze, he waved his hand indifferently. "Never mind. It's nothing."

Edward was slightly curious, but then Al returned with a couple of bowls, and the deliciously smelling food made all the intrigued thoughts leave the alchemist's mind instantly. Nicolas didn't know if he should laugh or be worried for the boy, as he watched Ed shoving in an entire bowl of noodles in mere seconds.

"You're not going to tell him to slow down?" He asked Alphonse with his lip twitching upwards. From what he'd seen, the younger brother acted almost like a parent towards the other… then again, the older seemed to care just as much. Still, Nicolas was expecting Al to step in any second, to prevent Ed from choking. But Alphonse just shook his head.

"It's no use. I've tried so many times, but he always eats like that when he's hungry. And Brother's always hungry."

"Sow 'bwat? Imma wrowin' bwoy, Al!" Ed protested with his full mouth.

Al sighed in resignation. Nicolas chuckled quietly. He seemed to enjoy the strange alchemist brothers' company, even if they scared him at first.

After they finished (Nicolas asked Al why he wasn't eating anything, to which Alphonse responded: "Oh, I'm fine! I already ate."), Edward payed for the meal, and covered one-night stay with breakfast for Nicolas. It was hard not to smile at the man's enthusiastic display of gratitude. He went on for at least a minute and a half how much it meant for him, and gave both Elrics a hug – luckily, his hold wasn't nearly as strong as Major Armstrong's, and he didn't strip. He reminded Ed more of Mr. Hughes, only without the pictures and the tendency for kidnapping people.

"Come on, Brother, you'll have to wake up early if we want to catch the first train to East City tomorrow." Al said gently but firmly, leaving Ed no choice but to follow him. Before they left, the younger Elric waved. "Goodnight, Mr. Nicolas!"

"Goodnight Mr. Alphonse, Mr. Edward!" Nicolas waved back, still smiling widely. "Thank you very much!"

Ed, without turning, bid farewell impassively:

"Sure, 'night, Nicolas. Take care."

At dawn of the next day, the Elric brothers rushed to the train station. Al wondered if they should say goodbye to Mr. Nicolas first, but Ed decided there was no reason to wake the man so early. And besides, they were in a hurry. This little encounter was so insignificant in Edward's mind, that he didn't even bother to put it in his report for the Colonel. He completely forgot about it after they arrived in East City.

* * *

"I haven't seen or heard about him for years," Ed continued the story "It was during my trip to Creta when we accidentally ran into each other…"

* * *

It was a nice, sunny spring morning when Edward arrived at the train station in West City. Holding a light-brown suitcase in his restored right hand, he went straight to the library. He had an appointment at noon, so there was plenty of time to check some reference materials about Creta. He should gather as much information about the country as possible before he passed the border, Ed decided. He could speak Cretan fluently, but he didn't know that much about the culture. He heard that they were very traditional people, with strong family values – which earned Edward's respect – as well as national pride. He would have to be careful not to offend anybody while abroad. His reputation wouldn't matter there, and he didn't have alchemy to defend himself anymore. It didn't mean he'd helpless, but it was better to be prepared, just in case.

The library was a good fifteen-minute walk and the weather was perfect. He wished Al could enjoy it with him. But, Ed thought with a smile, his little brother was probably having a good time as well, considering he was traveling with May. He was willing to bet that before their trip was over, Alphonse and May would get together. Ed saw the way the Xingese girl looked at his brother and Al might have been a little oblivious, but it wouldn't last long.

Lost in thought, Edward arrived at the library faster than he expected. He greeted a couple of guards at the front door and showed them a document he got from the Fuhrer.

"Good morning, my name is Edward Elric and I got a permission for the access of the State Alchemist materials" he said with a charming smile.

One of the guards (who was a woman) blushed furiously and stared at him.

"You… You… You're _the_ Edward Elric? You mean, the _Fullmetal Alchemist_?"

"Retired." Ed answered, his mood instantly dropping. _Oh great. Another one of those crazy fangirls._

"S-sir, if you d-don't mind... There's a document I need you to sign before you to enter..." She breathed out shakily, her face still flushed. She quickly ran inside the building.

The second guard (a man, thankfully) didn't react nearly as excited as she did, but was enthusiastic nevertheless.

"So you're the one they call 'the Hero of the People'?"

"Like I said, I retired. I'm no longer in the military." Ed shrugged.

"You're, what, eighteen? You must be the youngest man alive to retire!" The guard said, chuckling.

"Youngest to join, youngest to quit." Edward responded impassively. "Nothing strange about it."

"Why did you quit?"

"I decided it was about time I tried something new" he said with a wide grin. It wasn't exactly a lie. It was about time he started **living his live** , after he and Al restored their bodies. Aside from the fact that he had lost his ability to perform alchemy, which wasn't known to the public. People just heard that he helped during the chaos of the Promised Day in Central, and that he was honorably discharged. To explain why he left would mean he'd have to explain that he couldn't do alchemy anymore, explain the Gate of Truth, and reveal the Human Transmutation he and Al performed when they were children. He wasn't willing to do any of these.

But some people just couldn't respect privacy, could they?

"So what are you doing these days, Mr. Elric?"

"Traveling. Researching." Said Ed, absentmindedly.

"Researching what?"

Edward deadpanned at him. _What kind of library do you work at, moron?_

"Alchemy." He explained with a 'well, duh!' tone.

The guard looked embarrassed but before either of them could say anything else, the female guard returned. Ed scrutinized her suspiciously. He was fairly certain that a moment ago, she had a different hairstyle. And wasn't wearing any lipstick.

 _Girls_ , he inwardly sighed with annoyance.

"Here you go, sir!" She handed him a piece of paper and a pen. It wasn't an ordinary office pen, one of those that were provided by the military, Ed noticed. It was a nice, golden pen with black ink in it. He suspected it belonged to the guard herself.

Ed signed the paper with his left hand (he was still relearning how to write with his right hand, not all of his muscles were fully responsive yet, after spending almost five years without any exercise) and handed it back to the girl.

"Thank you very much, sir! We hope you enjoy yourself in West City!" She said, looking at him with a dreamy expression. Ed had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"You're quite early, so you have all the library for yourself" informed him the other guard. "No one usually comes in here before nine."

"Lucky me." Ed swiftly entered, eager to get rid of the annoying guards.

He was looking through the "C" section of the library when a strange sensation rushed through him. He looked around. It was empty and quiet, but he had an unsetting feeling that he wasn't alone.

"Hello?" He called out, confused.

The only response was silence. Ed frowned and returned to the books, but he still felt uneasy, like somebody was watching him. He waited a minute or two, but it just wouldn't leave him. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He put the book he was holding back on the shelf and started wandering around, searching for whatever made his senses alerted.

Suddenly, he stopped. He looked his left. There was nothing there, just a wall. He turned and made another step, but there was this feeling again. He looked again. The wall was plain and there was nothing interesting about it. But something about it rubbed Ed the wrong way. He squinted, trying to figure out what was… different about that wall.

Edward Elric was known for his almost eidetic memory. He remembered being in this library a couple of years ago. The architecture was identical to the East City's State Alchemist Library, with few exceptions. Something wasn't right here. Ed mentally searched through the blueprints of the library and then it occurred to him. There wasn't supposed to be a wall here. There used to be a small room there, with a desk and a chair. Did they change it for some reason? He looked for transmutation marks but couldn't find any. Either the alchemist who erased the door was very skilled, or the wall was rebuilt completely. He would love to find out if there was still a room behind it ( _are they keeping something hidden in there?_ ), but without his alchemy, there was no way he could bring down a brick wall.

Well, maybe he could… but it would be messy, and he'd rather avoid it.

There was still something else that was bugging him. This wall looked… too damn innocent. It was like the wall was _begging_ him not to pay any attention to it. That, itself, was suspicious.

Ed reached out to examine the wall, but to his complete surprise, it gave him no support and he tumbled forward. Before he could catch his balance, he tripped and fell to the ground.

He sat up, blinking. He was sitting in a small room, just like he remembered it, with a desk and a chair, and it was filled everywhere with books, both on the walls and on the floor. But it wasn't what surprised him: he wasn't alone.

At the desk sat a brown-haired man, gaping in shock at him.

"How…? You…!" He said as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

Ed immediately stood up, looking behind him. There was an open door there, and he could see the hallway he came from through it. _There was a door there!_ It's like it appeared out of nowhere.

"What the hell?" He whispered.

The other man stood up, still staring at him incredulously for some reason.

"Edward? Edward Elric?"

"Yeah, who the hell are you?" Ed asked, making a defensive stance. Something he couldn't understand just happened and it made him feel unsafe. And what the heck this guy was doing here? Didn't the guards say there was no one else in the library? There's no way he just came in from outside, he would have heard footsteps.

And how did this guy recognize him at first glance? It usually took people longer to figure out who he was.

The stranger looked like this question caught him off guard.

"You don't remember me?"

"Should I?" Ed frowned, trying to recall if he'd ever met the man.

"I'm Nicolas. You saved my life a couple of years ago… and payed for my stay at the hotel… don't you remember?" He cocked his head.

"Wait wait wait…" Edward squinted in concentration. Yes, there was something familiar about him. And the strange accent… Then it clicked. "Ah! You're that foreigner guy who was getting mugged!"

"That's right!" Nicolas grinned. His accent was much heavier than it was the last time they met. Strange, Ed would think people were supposed to be getting better with a language during their time abroad, instead of regressing.

"So what are you doing here?" Ed asked, looking around. "How did you even get in here? Isn't this the State Alchemist Library?"

All of a sudden, Nicolas became very nervous and flustered.

"Ah, yeah! Of course it is! You see, um..." He was obviously trying to come up with a convincing cover up story. "I became a State Alchemist, and decided to study here!"

"Reeeeally." Ed narrowed his eyes. "Let's see your watch, then.

"My, what?" Nicolas blinked, confused.

"Your watch. Every State Alchemist receives a watch after they're granted their title." Ed explained smugly. He already knew the foreigner was lying. Not only he didn't know about the identification watch, but he seem to be unaware of certain regulations in Amestris. They would never let a man from an unknown country take the exam. Not to mention he'd have to be a genius, which he definitely wasn't, to pass with the disadvantage of using a second language. Nicolas may have been intelligent, but he was no prodigy.

"I, uh, left it at home." Nicolas lied, his eyes darting around, as if looking for an escape route.

"No State Alchemist leaves the watch at home. They _always_ have it with them."

"Okay, okay, so I lost it! Happy?"

"No, they wouldn't let you in without it. Speaking of which… The guards told me I'm the first person to come in here today." Ed smirked, seeing he had Nicolas cornered. "Which means… you broke in."

"What? No! I-" Nicolas abruptly stopped. For a moment, he stood frozen, like he was trying to decide what to do. Ed noticed that the man had a hand in his pocket. Ed tensed.

"You better not be reaching for a weapon," he warned him coldly. "I saw five years how well you can handle a fight… I doubt you've improved, but I have, take my word for it."

Nicolas looked at him and paled. He must have remembered as well. Slowly, he removed his hand from the pocket and put both hands in the air.

"Good kid." Ed walked up and his left hand dived into the same pocket. Nicolas yelped. "Aha! What…?" Ed looked at the wooden stick in his hand, bewildered. "What's this?"

"It's nothing!" Nicolas squealed, obviously terrified.

"It's not nothing if you're reacting like this." Ed responded, shooting him a confused look. "What were you going to do with it? Poke my eye out?"

"It's just a gift! Nothing more!" He pleaded, white like a sheet. "Please, give it back!"

"Just give me a moment..." Ed murmured, intrigued. He examined the object with a scrutinizing eye. It was about twelve inches long, light brown, probably made of beech wood. It seemed like a tool to be used with one hand, whatever its purpose was. It was clearly old, but kept in good condition, and nicely polished. And it held great value for the owner, apparently. Ed couldn't imagine why, aside from sentimental reasons… Maybe Nicolas wasn't lying. The stick certainly couldn't be dangerous…

But Edward's suspicious nature was screaming at him to be careful. There was something off about the stick… just like it was with the wall. It seemed _too_ innocent.

Ed lifted it, to see how it looked against the light, then brought it down. The stick made a 'whoosh' sound as Ed waved it. At the same moment, a dozen or more books flew out of the shelves, tumbling loudly on the floor. Ed jumped up.

" **T** **he hell!?** " He shouted, turning his head around in searched for the perpetrator of the mess. There wasn't anybody else in the room, beside the two of them.

Nicolas didn't pay attention to the books at all. He was staring at him again, this time with eyes wide in wonder. He breathed deeply.

"You… you can use it!"

Ed looked back at him, confused. Why did this kid (technically, Nicolas was a couple of years older than Edward, but Ed didn't care) got so excited all of a sudden?

"Use what?"

Nicolas was switching his glance between Ed and the stick. There was contemplation in his eyes, like he was figuring out how to explain something complicated.

"I don't know the word for it in Amestrian," he said "but where I come from, we call it 'магия[1]'."

"'магия'?" Ed repeated the strange, unfamiliar term. Definitely foreign. "What the heck does that mean?"

"It's something I learned in my country…" Nicolas clasped his hands together, his expression was full of happiness. "I can't believe you can use it! I thought nobody in this place could..."

Suddenly, anxiety crept into Ed's mind.

"Wait a second. This 'магия' thing. Is it some sort of alchemy?" He asked slowly.

Nicolas thought for a moment, looking uncertain.

"I guess you could say that..." He eventually responded.

Ed stared at Nicolas for a moment, unmoving. He didn't know what it meant yet, but there was this dreadful feeling in the back of his head. When he understood, he lost his breath.

"Al..." Ed whispered with terror. The stick fell out of his hand and dropped on the floor.

Edward used alchemy. _He just used alchemy_. But that was impossible! What did this mean? Was… was his deal with Truth somehow… revoked?

Ed felt faint. No. There was no way. He lost his alchemy. He gave it up, dammit! He didn't have it anymore, it was impossible! That grinning bastard… he had no right to undo their deal! Was Alphonse… back at the Gate? Or worse… was Al… was he…

His heart rate increased, his breath quickened. Ed lowered his head in the palm of his hand, the one Al gave him back, in attempt to calm down.

"What's wrong?" Asked Nicolas, confused as to why Edward suddenly became white like chalk and had a horrified look on his face.

Ed shook his head. No, he mustn't panic. Not yet. He didn't have any proof. Whatever this 'магия' thing was, maybe it wasn't alchemy, maybe it was something else. He snapped out of his stupor and kneeled down. He grabbed the first book from the floor.

"Um, what are you…?"

Ed ignored Nicolas and focused on the book. The cover was green. This would prove it, once and for all. Ed focused on an alchemical equation that would turn the pigment of the book from green to red. He exhaled deeply, thinking only about the formula. Then, he clapped his hands, and pressed them to the book.

Nothing happened.

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave smoothing the sand on a beach. He was right. He didn't have his alchemy back. He'd never thought he'd be so happy about that, though. It was quite ironic.

But as long as it meant that Al was still in the land of the living, he'd gladly celebrate this fact.

"It's not alchemy." He said softy, his voice brimming with relief.

"What?" Nicolas frowned, not comprehending what just happened.

"That wasn't alchemy. Whatever it was, it wasn't alchemy. It can't be alchemy. The very fact that I did it proves it."

Nicolas glanced at the stick laying on the floor. Hesitantly, he took a step forward and picked it up. Ed noticed it, but did nothing. He was too overwhelmed to care. Nicolas seemed to be aware of that, as he sat down next to Edward and regarded him with a concerned look.

"I don't understand."

Ed looked at him and smiled weakly.

"I can't use alchemy. At all. Even alkahestry, though I'm pretty sure I could learn how to read Dragon Pulse if I tried…" Ed quickly shook his head to avoid getting off topic. "But that's beside the point. I can use it, which means it's not alchemy. Case closed."

"What do you mean 'you can't use alchemy'?" Nicolas asked, utterly confused. "Didn't you use it when we first met? Twice?"

"I could back then. I gave it up." Ed explained.

"You… gave it up?!" The foreigner's jaw dropped. "Is that even possible?"

"Well, I'm the only person who's ever done it, but yeah, it is." The former alchemist's smile turned into an amused grin.

"How could… Why would you do that?" Nicolas asked. The sole idea of giving up a skill as valuable as alchemy seemed to be more than he could take. "I don't think I… I can't even imagine, giving up my магия..."

Ed looked at him with curiosity.

"Not even for someone you care about?"

Nicolas' expression instantly changed. From shocked to thoughtful, and from thoughtful to hopeful.

"Yeah… I would." He said with a strong emotion in his voice. "I'd want to. I… I wish I could."

Edward's curiosity perked. He watched Nicolas for a moment, wondering what was going on in his head.

"Alright, explain it to me. Just how did I use this 'магия', and what's with the weird stick?" He asked. Now that he was reassured that магия wasn't alchemy, he was _dying to know_. This was the reason he set off on this journey in the first place, to learn new things about the world. He knew many sciences, but he'd never heard of anything like магия.

"The stick is something called a 'палочка[2]'. Магия can be only performed with it. You can't do it without a палочка, just like you can't use alchemy without a transmutation circle..." Nicolas stopped and looked at Ed. "Wait, that isn't right. You could do alchemy without a circle, couldn't you? Back then, I mean."

"Yeah, but that's not… usual." Ed said, not eager to explain the source of that knowledge. _No one should desire that skill. Ever._

Nicolas wasn't surprised.

"I figured. I don't know how many books I've looked through, but I couldn't find anything about a circle-less transmutation."

This statement brought another question to Ed's mind.

"Wait, how long have you been here?"

Nicolas, who was relaxed and enjoying the conversation just a second ago, became rigid.

"Well… I kind of sneak in every morning?" He said slowly, peering at Ed with timid eyes.

Ed didn't even twitch. He already knew that.

"So you're a regular visitor, huh?" He asked completely indifferently.

Nicolas blinked at him, bewildered.

"You're… not going to arrest me?" He asked as if he could hardly believe it.

"What?" Ed burst into laughter. "Don't be silly! I can't even if I wanted. I'm not with the military anymore. And besides, I hate those guards." He added, and much to Nicolas' surprise, started ranting: "They're complete idiots. One doesn't know what kind of library he's working at, and the other forced an autograph out of me, thinking I didn't notice. There's never been paperwork to sign just to enter a library! I used to be a State Alchemist for crying out loud, so doesn't she think I would know that?!" He huffed with annoyance, that looked back at Nicolas and gave him a wink. "I don't care what you do to fool them, but as long as it's just them, I'm completely fine with it. You only come here to study, right? You don't steal any books, do you?"

"Of course not!" Nicolas was appalled by the idea. "I would never…!"

"Yeah, thought so. You don't strike me as the criminal type." Ed smirked. "Especially the way you acted when they were about to mug you… ' _Please, I don't have any money!_ '" He mimicked the scared voice Nicolas used. The man frowned while Ed was making fun of him. "You'd just cooperate with anybody holding a weapon, wouldn't you?"

"H-hey!" The foreigner crossed his arms indignantly. "It's not my fault! I was never taught how to fight back! Well, except the магия defense class, back when I attended school… And I wasn't very good."

"Then you shouldn't travel." Ed told him seriously. "You never know when you might need to defend yourself."

"It's not like I wanted to leave home…" Nicolas murmured sadly. "But I can't go back until I find something." He added, and determination appeared in his eyes, startling Edward. It was almost like looking in a mirror. It was _weird_.

"What are you looking for?" Ed asked.

"Someone I care about is very sick. And I need to find a medicine."

"Is that why you're studying alchemy, Nicolas?"

The man was silent for a moment, looking at the floor with a thoughtful expression. When he lifted his head, there was a gentle smile on his lips.

"Call me Flamel." He said out of nowhere.

"Wha- huh?!" Ed didn't know what to make from this sudden change of topic. And why the heck would Nicolas want to be called 'Flamel'?

"You inspired me." Nicolas spoke with a tone of voice that was familiar to Ed. It was like hearing Jerso and Zampano, the two chimeras he and Al met in Briggs a couple of years ago. Al told them about his condition and determination to get back to normal. Because of this, they changed sides and helped them defeat Father on the Promised Day. It also reminded Ed of Sciezska, the girl who had been convinced she was completely useless in society, until Al told her that dedication was a talent itself. Man, his little brother sure knew how to inspire people. But Ed, to inspire someone? Maybe he did, someone, somewhere, but he never met a person who would tell him that so straight-forward. It was rather flattering and heartwarming to hear, but mostly surprising. Who knew he would still affect someone's life years after he'd met the person? Edward listened, feeling strangely touched. "I was lost and I didn't know what to do. Then you came in. I saw alchemy and I realized I may be able to find a cure if I looked into it." Hazel brown eyes locked with the golden ones. "You told me the Flamel Cross is a symbol of alchemy. For me, alchemy was a symbol of hope. So, in my eyes, the Flamel Cross is the symbol of hope." Nicolas made a pause to take a breath, and the solemn mood vanished. He explained the rest in a matter-of-factually tone. "Most people in this country have a last name. It's strange not to have one, so I had to come up with something. I thought Flamel would be perfect."

"Sheesh, aren't you being a bit too obvious?" Ed rolled his eyes, but smiled. "But it's not too bad. I kind of like it."

"Thank you, Edward Elric." Nicolas looked really glad to hear his approval.

"Please, call me Ed."

"Ed, then. Thanks. I really owe you one." They dropped the formalities for good.

"Why? The Flamel thing was your own idea." Ed pointed out.

"I mean, for saving my life back then."

"Eh, don't worry about it. It was a long time ago."

"But I would be dead if it wasn't for you, so… Let me give you something in return. Equivalent Exchange."

Edward gave him a warning glare.

"Look, I don't want any money."

"I wasn't talking about money." Nicolas told him. "You're a researcher, right?"

"Sure."

"How about I teach you some магия?"

Ed opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out of it. Did he? Or didn't he? He wasn't sure. There was something really strange about it, something unsettling. Like when he fell through that wall and suddenly a door appeared. Ed glanced behind him. He could still see the hallway. He had literally no idea how Nicolas, or should he say, Flamel, pulled off that trick. If he was to be honest with himself, he was very curious, be he also felt the need to be cautious.

"You said you can't use alchemy anymore." Nicolas continued when Ed didn't respond. "But you _can_ use магия. So, what do you think?"

"As interesting as it sounds…" Ed said slowly. "I can't. I'm not staying in West City. I have an appointment at noon, and then, I'm going straight to Creta."

"Why don't I come with you, then?"

Ed turned to Nicolas, surprised.

"You want to follow me to Creta?"

Flamel shrugged.

"I don't see why not. I earned some money for small services, I don't have a consistent job… and I really don't belong anywhere. I have nothing to lose."

"But what will _you_ get out of it?" Edward narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Nicolas gave him an innocent look. "Come on, I'm not stupid. I can see this is about more than you just paying me back."

"I _do_ want to pay you back." Flamel insisted. "But you're right. It's not just that." He admitted. "You see, ever since I arrived here, I heard stories. About 'Fullmetal Alchemist', or 'the Hero of the People'..."

Ed groaned.

"Argh, here we go…!"

"Hear me out!" Nicolas lifted his hand. "They say that you're a prodigy, a genius, the best alchemist that ever lived…"

"As flattered as I am, I don't think-"

"...and that you know about all different kinds of alchemy..."

"I'm still researching, I don't know **everything** about alchemy!"

"...and you know things about the medical field, too."

Ed stopped. He looked at the man very seriously. Quite against himself, the image of Tucker flashed in his head. _Oh get a grip,_ he thought impatiently. _He's not like Tucker._ But how would he know? Nicolas seemed like a really nice guy, but what reason did Ed have to trust him?

"Why would you want to learn about medical alchemy?" He asked, staring into his eyes like he was trying to reach his soul.

"I told you." Nicolas Flamel didn't turn away. He bravely stared back into the golden fire of Edward Elric's eyes. "Someone very important to me is gravely ill. I have to find a cure at all cost."

They struggled for a while in silence. Neither backed down. Finally, Nicolas changed tactics. His eyes softened. With a voice that was practically begging, he said:

"Please, Ed. I can't do this without you… It's been five years, and I didn't make any progress. If anyone can help me, it's you." His teeth gritted in genuine, emotional pain. " _Please_."

Ed felt like he was having a deja vu, or something similar. This determination, desperation to help a loved one to find a cure for a condition that's considered hopeless (why else would he beg for help like that?), a five-year-long journey that felt like it brought no progress and seemed to never end… Where had he seen it before? Hell, who was he kidding. He was looking at _himself_.

"Ah, dammit! FINE!" He shouted in defeat, looking away. Now he knew how Teacher felt when she accepted him and Al as her students. "You can come with me to Creta. But I'm not making any promises!"

Tears of joy and gratitude filled Nicolas' eyes. He jumped at Ed and enveloped him in a hug.

"Aaaaaah, thank you so muuuuuch!" He cried, squishing him.

" _ **Don't touch me!**_ " Ed yelled with annoyance.

* * *

"So, you just let him follow you?" Mustang interrupted. "You gave in pretty fast. You really are soft, Fullmetal."

"Shut up!" Ed snapped at him. "Anyway, I didn't expect much of this arrangement. But as we traveled together and exchanged knowledge on the way, I slowly came to realize that Nicolas – or Flamel, as he called himself – had some… strange... secrets..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> (WARNING: my author notes are long, get used to it! ;)
> 
> Sooo, we got: some Ed and Roy's friendship bickering, EdxWinry, AlxMay, RoyxRiza, a small adventure from Ed and Al's early days that I hope was kept the spirit of the first episodes… and of course, the backstory for Nicolas Flamel. Quite an eventful chapter, right?
> 
> Funny thing is, I wanted to include the trip to Creta here. But this chapter sort of stretched out… to over 9,000 words! So I thought it'd a bit too much. I hope you guys don't mind. Obviously, I'm not done with Nicolas' backstory yet. Before we arrive at the beginning point (Hogwarts), I wanted some sort of relationship to develop first, a friendship between Nicolas and Ed. There's going to be more next chapter, and much more later on! But what exactly, I'm not telling yet.
> 
> I knew from the start that Ed would be the one to introduce Nicolas to alchemy, become his inspiration and unintentionally provide him his last name – Flamel. Keep in mind that Nicolas was born in 1327, and only the higher class of society in the middle-ages' Europe had titles. That's why Nicolas assumed that the Elric brothers were knights. They're the defenders of justice, not to mention them having last names and a crest.
> 
> I know I put a bit of sappiness in Ed and Al's conversation… I swear, I try so hard to keep them in character. But I can't help it, I love the way they support each other and how close they are, their relationship is my favorite part of FMA. I think Al being upset about his brother always being the hero, and only being recognized as "Fullmetal Alchemist's younger brother", is well justified at that point. It's only been a year since Ed earned his watch and he just made himself the reputation of "the Hero of the People". Al's not jealous, just compares himself to Ed and feels down because of it ("Look mom, I made it for you! But Brother's better, I could only make you this one..." sounds familiar?). And Ed would have none of it. If you think Edward came out as too modest in this chapter, never accepting the praise or gratitude, it's just how these scene played out. They wouldn't… feel right otherwise.
> 
> About the short rants… some of you expressed that you don't want me to exaggerate Ed's reactions, because he's not an immature kid – not anymore. Alright, I promise to remember that. I even said in this chapter: "It's much harder to vex him than it used to be, now that Ed matured and actually grew." He'll explode from time to time, but not just because of someone implying that he's short, but actually insulting him and telling him he's young and unexperienced. I think it's only fair. I believe that even after Brotherhood's ending, Edward kept his temper short (no pun intended this time).
> 
> Ah, you might be wondering why I chose Russian of all languages to swap when Nicolas is speaking English. Answer: I dunno. I just wanted to use a different alphabet, to make it easier for us to relate to Ed, who doesn't understand English at that point. I'm sure you've already guessed who he's going to learn it from. Also, Nicolas couldn't translate those words to Amestrian, simply because those words don't exist in that language. Amestris has a different history, and different folklore, so not even fairytales of magic exist there.
> 
> [1] – 'магия' means 'magic'
> 
> [2] - 'палочка' means 'wand'
> 
> Thank you for all of your reviews, you guys are amazing! I didn't think this story would be so popular. I'll try to keep updating. Please continue reviewing, read on, and enjoy the story! Because we all love stories here :D


	3. Scars and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the story of how Ed and Nicolas became friends. Part 2/3.

"Anyway, I didn't expect much of this arrangement. But as we traveled together and exchanged knowledge on the way, I slowly came to realize that Nicolas – or Flamel, as he called himself – had some… strange... secrets..."

* * *

"...then the first guy calls Mustang, and he's like: 'Hello, Colonel. I have something of yours, which I'm sure you have noticed'. You know, sounding all smug and confident. But Mustang on the other side says no, and his smirk falls off. He says: 'Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric… sounds familiar? The new alchemist who can transmute by just clapping?' And suddenly the guy who tied me up says: 'Wait, he can transmute without a circle?' And the third is like: 'You didn't know? Did you at least make sure his hands are tied apart from each other?' And they're staring at each other with those dumb looks on their faces!"

Nicolas burst into laughter, accompanied by Ed.

"No way, how stupid are those guys!"

"I know, right!"

"Then what did you do?"

"I snuck at them from behind and knocked them out."

"You're so violent!" Nicolas was still laughing.

"What else'd you expect? Those guys kidnapped me! Even if they did a pathetic job."

"You really seem to enjoy knocking people out." Flamel said with mirth.

"Only if they deserve it." Ed grinned mischievously.

The two of them were riding in an empty compartment. After Edward's appointment, they went to Flamel's place where Nicolas packed his things (turned out that just like Ed, he didn't carry much). Then, they purchased an extra ticket and they both departed from West City at fifteen hours, using the military term.

Although Ed agreed to Nicolas traveling with him, he was still a bit skeptical how well his new friend would adjust to Cretan culture. Ed had weeks to prepare. If all went according to the schedule, they would spend at least a couple of months in Creta, before Ed continued his journey to Aerugo. He expected it to be difficult: he'd never been to another country for such a long period of time. Especially without people he knew well accompanying him. He couldn't depend on Al's diplomatics to solve arising conflicts anymore (Alphonse used to constantly remind him to 'stay away from trouble', but it wasn't Ed's fault that trouble _loved_ finding him), however he hoped he could avoid getting himself into any big mess. Ed had confidence in his language skills, but good communication needed so much more than that.

Speaking of which…

"Hey, Flamel," Ed began. For some reason, it took no effort to switch from 'Nicolas' to 'Flamel' in one day. Maybe it was because Edward hadn't spent that much time with him yet, so he wasn't used to call him anything specific to begin with. Or maybe because, even though Ed didn't know why, that name really suited the man. "I forgot to ask. You do speak Cretan, right?"

"Nope."

For a second, Edward stared incredulously at his blithely smiling friend.

"And you couldn't bother to tell me that earlier?!" He exclaimed with exasperation.

"Ed, relax." Nicolas raised his hand to calm him down. "It's not going to be a problem. When I came to Amestris, I didn't speak Amestrian for a long time, but I was completely fine."

"There's a difference." Ed told him with a dour expression. "From what I've heard, most Cretans aren't welcoming people. They are a very proud nation. You'll be fine as long as you stick with me, but what if we got split up somewhere on the way?" His face scowled. "If I remembered correctly, you weren't what I'd call 'completely fine' the first time we met."

Nicolas flinched a bit.

"Well, you make a good point..." He admitted. "But the language won't be a problem, if that's what you're worried about."

"Don't you know _any_ of Cretan language? Like, not even the basic 'hello' or 'sorry'?"

Nicolas calmly shook his head. Edward groaned, rubbing his forehead and watching the passing landscape outside the window.

"Great. Just great. I hope you're a fast learner, because they may try to kill you otherwise."

"You're joking, right?"

"You wish." Ed scoffed. "We aren't at war right now, but relations between Amestris and Creta have always been… tense. They're not exactly friendly with Amestrians."

"I'm not an Amestrian."

"I know, but neverthele-" Ed stopped in mid-sentence and turned to Nicolas with a calculated look in his eyes. "Where _are_ you from, anyway?"

Flamel fidgeted under the piercing, golden gaze.

"I told you… far, far away. You definitely never heard of it."

"It couldn't be that far, if you managed to get to Amestris all by yourself."

Ed's casual-sounding remark made Nicolas jerk noticeably. The blond leaned forward, uncertainty momentarily flashing through his features.

"There's something I don't get about you, Nick. Five years ago you showed up in West City, alone, with nothing more than a stick in your pocket and clothes that someone probably gave you out of pity..." Flamel's visible displeasure at being called 'Nick' gradually faded, being replaced by surprise. Seeing the shocked expression directed at him, Ed explained: "It was sort of obvious you didn't buy them, they were way too big for you, not to mention secondhand. I wondered briefly if you stole them, but after five seconds spent with, I figured you couldn't steal a lollipop from a baby if your life depended on it." Now the expression changed to almost pouting. It'd have made Ed snicker if he wasn't so engrossed in listing off his observations. "You spoke Amestrian fluently like you've used it for years, but you acted like you've never been to Amestris in your life. Earlier today, you told me that when I saved you, you were lost and didn't know what to do. You had no idea where you were going, did you?" There was no answer. Ed continued: "So you came to Amestris on your own, somehow, with no clear purpose and completely unprepared. Have you been here ever since?"

After a moment of silence, Nicolas nodded reluctantly. Ed frowned at him, perturbed.

" **But that makes no sense!** " Flamel backed away from his sudden outburst. "You're telling me that you've lived all this time in West City. Yet, your speech has definitely regressed from five years ago. You sound like you had to learn it all over again! Did you hit your head or something?"

"No!" Nicolas crossed his arms, offended.

"Then, _what_ happened?" Ed pressed. He was a scientist, a researcher, it was his job to pursue the truth. But Nicolas Flamel was a complete mystery to him. Edward was frustrated, confused and disturbed that he couldn't figure it out. "You're definitely the same person I met five years ago. You even have the same stick, палочка or whatever you call it. You know things I told Nicolas so you can't be an impostor...". _..besides, Envy and all the other Homunculi are dead_ , he finished in his head. "You hardly changed at all, but your speech is very different. It's cruder, and you slur certain sounds in a way that I've never heard in any accent. Not to mention that your first language, as you informed me, is 'English', which is literally nowhere mentioned in any library I've come across. Just how do you explain that?"

Nicolas, sitting in a defensive position across Ed, watched him in fascination and slight fear. After a long moment, he gulped and slowly opened his mouth:

"You must be the most perspicacious person I've ever met, Edward Elric."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I know… but I mean it." He said, sounding deeply impressed. "I thought you'd be in Griffindor, but perhaps I was mistaken. You would make a fine Ravenclaw... if not one of the greatest."

"What are you babbling about?" The former alchemist asked impatiently. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Sorry." Nicolas responded sheepishly. "I'll tell you another time. I guess I owe you an explanation."

"Damn right you do. Now, tell me."

"It all starts with this." Flamel reached his pocket and pulled out the familiar polished stick. "You see, where I come from, it's a very important part of my culture-"

" **Where** are you from **exactly**?" Ed rudely interrupted.

Nicolas paused.

"England." He finally confessed, seeing that the blond wouldn't stop bothering him until he got a straight answer.

"There's no such place." Edward narrowed his eyes dangerously. ' _Don't you dare lie to me_ ', they said.

"I'm telling you the truth." The man tried to convince him. "My country is called England, it's a part of Great Britain, which is a huge island in the northern sea."

"An island, huh…" Ed decided to buy that for now. "Alright. How did you get here?"

Nicolas looked aside, obviously not willing to share the secret.

"It's very complicated," he said evasively.

"The train won't arrive in Creta for the next four hours, so we've got plenty of time." Ed leaned back on his seat and relaxed, his attitude making it clear he wouldn't be taking 'no' for an answer.

Finally, Nicolas gave in with a sigh.

"For you to even remotely understand, I need to tell you about магия, first."

The foreigner (or 'the England-ian', as Ed dubbed him in his head) started explaining, holding the палочка-stick and waving it from time to time as he went on. Apparently, in England, there was a society that could use this technique called магия. It was something passed on from one generation to another, but rarely, people from ordinary families were born with this ability too. Although it was, according to Nicolas, extremely useful, people who couldn't do it resented those who could and feared them. Sometimes, they sought and captured the members of the society, whom Flamel called 'мастера[3]', and burned them on stake. Ed listened with growing horror as Nicolas described all the terrible acts of violence against those whose only fault was, that they were born special.

"So you guys are being hated, just because people who can't do the stuff are jealous?"

"Basically." Nicolas nodded sadly.

Ed took a deep breath and tousled his hair with his hand, not sure what to say. _No wonder he was being so secretive about it_ , he thought. _He expected people around here to react the same way... It's like Ishval all over again_.

"It can't imagine all of your 'мастера gang' sitting quietly while all of this is happening," he finally said, frowning. "Why don't you fight back?"

"There are too few us..." Nicolas closed his eyes with weariness. "We're outnumbered about 1 to 1000. We may have the power to defend ourselves, but we're not soldiers, we're just ordinary people. We don't want a war. Those who reveal themselves as мастера are in danger. Many of our children have been killed. We're trying our best to stay hidden, hoping that with time they'll just forget about us."

"That's a dumb strategy," Ed responded vigorously "Instead of trying to solve the problem, you're letting them beat you up into submission. You should have appointed ambassadors or something to negotiate peace with the other side. They're obviously seeing you as a threat, so if you just showed them that there's no need to be afraid and you don't mean any harm..."

"That would never work!" Nicolas protested. "They don't want peace! They want to get rid of us. They don't care if-"

"Have any of you ever _tried_?"

"It's not so simple. They don't listen to-"

"How many people outside your community have you talked about it?" The blond man insisted, glaring at Flamel, whose confidence quickly faltered.

"Uh, well, I'm not really sure..."

"How many?"

"I don't know, I honestly don't remember..."

"Can you recall at least one conversation? In detail?" Nicolas opened his mouth, only to close it in shame. Ed shook his head. "That's what I thought."

"What do you expect _me_ to do?!" Flamel snapped. "It's not just me who thinks like this. I can't just wander around the country, asking everyone if they want to reveal themselves and negotiate with people who're trying to kill us!"

"And why not?" Ed challenged.

"We just want to live in peace, that's all!"

"Peace that wasn't heartedly worked for, or sealed with the unity of people, will never last long." Edward stated adamantly.

There was an uncomfortable tension between them. Ed was glaring at Nicolas, while the other kept looking anywhere but at the man in front of him. Eventually, it was Flamel who decided to break the awkward silence.

"Let's change the subject," he pleaded "alright? Let's talk about something else."

Ed grunted in agreement. _I guess_ _that's enough…_ _For now._

"Ah, um… That's right! I told you about магия in my country, but I haven't explained what you can to with it yet. Do you…?" Flamel traced off, uncertain if the former alchemist still wanted to hear about it.

After shifting in his seat and putting his arms behind his head, Ed regarded Nicolas in a seemingly indifferent way, silently prompting him to continue. Nicolas let out a breath of relief. Edward wasn't mad at him.

"Well, it's very different from alchemy." He started. "There you have understanding, destruction and reconstruction, always in that order, every transmutation circle must be very specific to achieve the desired result, there are very strict rules to it. Personally, I really appreciate it, how different, complex and organized alchemy is compared to what I've learned in school..."

Much to Ed's surprise, it turned out that Nicolas didn't know that much about the technique itself, nor its origin. Yes, he knew how to use it and what the effects were, but he had provided no explanation as to how the stick worked or why some people could use it while others just couldn't. Edward felt disbelief slowly changing his expression as Flamel continued to claim that with a wave and a couple of words objects could be lifted from the ground, one form turned into another, and all of that completely ignoring the principal of Equivalent Exchange.

"That sounds extremely unscientific, Nick," Ed's eyebrows were so high that they got close to flying off his face. "I thought you were a researcher."

Flamel deadpanned at him.

"Please don't call me Nick. Nicolas or Flamel will do."

"Whatever." Ed smirked and stick out his tongue. Nicolas laughed, shaking his head.

"It's sort of incredible how one moment, you're all serious and come up with all those theories and opinions about politics, and the next, you're goofing around like a kid." He grinned.

"Hey! What's wrong with having a little bit of fun?" Ed returned the grin. "Technically, I'm still a teenager. I have the right to have fun from time to time."

"Wait, how old are you Ed?"

"Eighteen."

"Really?" Nicolas seemed genuinely surprised. "I thought you were older. You're so brilliant and educated I could have sworn you were at least twenty."

"Oh?" Ed couldn't deny the warm feeling that blossomed in his chest after hearing those words for the first time in his life, but he wasn't sure if Flamel was being sincere or not. "Most people used to think I'm younger, because… because..."

"Because what?" Nicolas asked innocently.

All the countless times people called him _THAT_ flashed through Ed's mind, along with the memories of the incredible comebacks he came up with each time during his rants. Ed shook it off and looked back at his friend.

"Nah, never mind."

Nicolas shrugged. "If you say so."

The hours passed swiftly and soon they arrived at the train station in Milos*. Ed had a ton of questions regarding the магия technique and plenty of other things, but they would have to wait till later. Still, Edward Elric had no intention of letting it go.

After all, Nicolas hadn't answered his original question.

* * *

A couple of days passed before they had a chance to return to their discussion. Ed rented rooms for himself and Nicolas in a hotel and they started spending most of their day in the local library. It wasn't anything close to a State Alchemist library, however there was still an impressive collections of books about alchemy with formulas Ed wasn't very familiar with. He literally devoured one book after another, while Nicolas studied the basics of Cretan language. Flamel was more than slightly baffled at how fast Edward was ingesting the content of the books.

"Can you really remember it all?" He asked skeptically after Ed put another thick tome down and reached for the next volume.

"Mhm." Edward didn't even bother to look at him, already lost into the book.

"Somehow, I find it hard to believe."

"Uhuh."

"Ed, aren't you working too hard? I love learning and all, but that must be at least the tenth book you've read in the past three days!" He stated with concern. "Ed? Edward!" Nicolas tried to get his attention by snapping fingers next to his face, but the blond didn't even twitch. ( _He's not the Colonel, he can do all the snapping he wants_ , Ed thought in the back of his mind while the remaining 95% of his focus was still on the book.) He leaned closer. "Can you hear me?"

"Hm."

Flamel sighed. Then, an idea came to his head. After making sure no witnesses were nearby, he crept behind Ed's back and pulled something out of the pocket. Pointing his палочка, he whispered:

" _Tergeo._ "

The words in the book suddenly disappeared, leaving the pages blank. There wasn't even a trace of the print left.

Edward stared dumbly for a moment, before hastily standing up. He dropped the book on the floor. The pages fluttered, making it shown that the entire content had been erased, and the cover fell closed with a quiet 'thud'. Ed turned around to see Nicolas with the incriminating stick still in his hand. "What the… **WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!** "

Flamel put a finger on his lips.

"Shhh! Not so loud. We're in a library."

" **WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO, NICOLAS?!** "

"Hey, calm down Ed, easy!" Nicolas started to panic, the last thing they needed was attracting the attention of not-necessarily-friendly Cretans. "I can fix it." He picked up the book, opened it on a random paged and waved. The words instantly reappeared. "See?"

Edward was gaping, turning his head between the book and Nicolas. He sputtered:

"Bu- wha- how- the- huh?!"

"Told you it's useful." Flamel smiled, proud that he managed to make the Fullmetal Alchemist speechless. He shoved the stick back into his pocket. "Let's take a break, okay?"

Ed slowly nodded (his jaw was still hanging open), but his face made it clear he'll soon demand an explanation.

"Come on, let's head back to the hotel. It's almost lunchtime."

The two of them left the library in silence. Ed was constantly glancing at the pocket with shock mixed with thoughtful curiosity. Halfway back, he suddenly spoke:

"Did you do the same thing with the door?"

"What?" Flamel turned his head to look at him. He didn't quite know what Ed was talking about.

"Back in West City, in the library. There was this door, and somehow, you made it look just like a wall. I thought it was a trick with mirrors or something, but… can this магия technique make things look like they're not really there? Like some sort of camouflage?"

"Hmm, yes, you're correct." Nicolas agreed. "However, that's not what I did with the book. Those words really disappeared, unlike the door, which was simply made invisible."

Ed looked at him with utter disbelief.

"Liar. You made the print come back. If it was really gone, you couldn't have done that."

Flamel shook his head.

"You're not going to accept this easily, are you? Yes, the ink in the pages was gone, but I reversed it and it came back. That's all."

A groan escaped Ed's throat as he massaged his temple. He could feel a migraine coming.

"This reminds me, I actually wanted to ask you about that." Ed lifted his head when he heard Nicolas speaking again. "When we were in the library, just how did you manage to see through the illusion? I don't think anybody has ever done that. I have to say, you really shocked me."

"I couldn't see through it," Ed explained wearily, his mind still reeling as he was trying to comprehend what Flamel was telling him. "But I sensed there was something wrong with it."

"Sensed? You mean you can feel it?" Nicolas sounded excited. "So you have some extra sense that helps you recognize what is real and what is not?"

"No, nothing like that!" Ed snorted. "It was just instinct. I suspected that there was something wrong with the wall, and I came closer to examine it."

"That's weird. I could have sworn you were looking through the door. You were staring right at me!" The blond looked at him with confusion. "It spooked me, to be honest. I was sitting there, reading, when suddenly you showed up and stopped right next to the door. Then you kept staring and I started wondering if you could see me or not. And then you stepped inside, just like that! I don't know what surprised me more: your entrance or who you were. I didn't recognize you at first. You've changed a lot. Not only the outfit and your hairstyle, but you're also much ta-" Suddenly Nicolas coughed. "...m-mature, compared to the last time we've seen each other."

Ed rolled his eyes at this not-too-subtle attempt to cover up what he was originally going to say. Nevertheless, he was grateful that Nicolas cared about his feelings enough to do so. Not that it bothered him anymore. He was starting to think that Flamel was a really considerate person in general, not just because he wanted something from Edward. Ed wondered if Nicolas wasn't _too_ kind-hearted for his own good. He reminded him of Al in that aspect…

"...not too hard, and I'm pretty sure you'd get the hang of it quickly."

Ed realized he'd been tuning out Nicolas for a while.

"Huh? What did you say?"

"I said I could teach you how to use ' _Tergeo_ '... Were you even listening?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking..."

"Hey, Ed, are you okay?"

"What?" Ed blinked in surprise at Flamel's concerned expression and worried tone of voice. "Of course I am."

"It's just, you look kind of pale. You're working so hard, that's why I wanted you to take a break. But I didn't think before I began showing off with things that are shocking and mind-boggling for most people." Ed's eyes widened as guilt was written on the other man's face. "I didn't mean to scare you or anything..."

"Scare me?! Pfff!" Ed sneered and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Pah-lease! Do you know who you're talking to? I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist! I faced immortal creatures, serial killers, paperwork, furious housewives and plenty of other terrifying things you've never imagined!" He looked at Flamel with a cocky grin. "I can handle more than a bunch of crazy tricks! I say, bring it on!"

Nicolas scrutinized him with a growing smile of his own.

"You don't even know what you're getting into, Ed."

* * *

Despite Flamel's insistence to take it easy, Ed was working his butt off, and so did Nicolas. While Ed simultaneously read dozens of Cretan alchemy texts daily, studied the strange new art Nicolas was enthusiastically teaching him and started learning the basics of English language (because he couldn't stand that there was a culture and language he knew nothing about), Nicolas was slowly picking up Cretan and continued his own research on a cure for an incurable disease, for the mysterious 'person he cared about'.

It really intrigued Ed how Nicolas never talked about it and yet, it clearly drove him, just like getting Al his body back drove Ed once. He tried asking but each time, Flamel either fell into a dejected silence or changed the topic.

The foreigner described the condition he was looking into, but it wasn't extremely helpful.

"You know, it'd be easier if I could examine this person, or at least get some medical records" Ed said exasperated. "From what you're telling me, there could be plenty of reasons for such sickness. Muscle atrophy can be caused by an epidemic, poison, unhealthy lifestyle, lack of mobility and many others things. Have you tried asking a doctor about this?"

"That was the first thing I did. They got nothing, the doctors could only recommend rehabilitation exercises, but that's not gonna to help." Nicolas scratched his unruly brown hair in contemplation. "I'm pretty certain that it's something you're born with, though."

"Ugh, that sucks." Ed rubbed his temple and sighed. "I can't be sure, but it could be something called ' _dystrophia progressiva pseudohypertrophica_ '. That's one possibility at least. I wish Al was here... he studies alkahestry, which is Xingese version of alchemy specialized in the medical field. He must know more than I do."

"Really?!" Nicolas looked up, excited. "That sounds great! Where is he?"

"Currently thousands of miles away, in the country of Xing. I don't know where exactly. I won't be seeing him for a year or two."

"Oh." His head fell down in disappointment.

But Flamel wasn't giving up, that much was certain. He'd been searching for a cure for five years now, or maybe even longer – Edward didn't know how much time he spent on this quest before his arrival in Amestris. For some reason, Nicolas seemed convinced that the key to his problem was alchemy. Ed wasn't sure why he'd think that, but it wasn't debatable. For someone with such meek and gentle attitude, Nicolas was a stubborn one.

In the meantime, Ed made progress with магия, but he had a hard time comprehending it. He had countless arguments with Nicolas about how this was supposed to work, because his scientific mind refused to acknowledge that a wooden stick could make an object fly.

"You don't have to understand it," Flamel explained for a hundredth time. "All you need to do is wriggle and say: ' _Wingardium Leviosa_ '..."

"But how a couple of words can defy the laws of gravity?" Edward demanded, pointing at the feather they pulled out from a pillow for the exercise.

Nicolas sighed, his patience wearing thin. He took the палочка-stick from Ed and pointed at the feather, stating firmly:

" _Wingardium Leviosa_."

The feather floated gracefully in the air. Ed eyed Nicolas doubtfully.

"It could be the wind, you know."

"We're in a closed room." Flamel pointed out.

"Or your breath! Whatever. This doesn't prove a thing."

Nicolas was tired of Edward's skepticism. He narrowed his eyes and pointed at Ed.

"What are you…?" Ed's eyes widened in understanding. "No. Don't you dare!"

" _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Edward's feet lifted from the ground. The former alchemist instantly went into panic mode.

" **AAAAAAAAAAH!** " He screamed, waving his hands on the sides comically as he tried to set himself free from the invisible force pulling him in the air. "Put me down put me down put me down!"

"Do you believe it now?" Nicolas asked with smugness that only a teacher giving a disobedient child a lesson could achieve.

"Yes yes yes yes yes! Put me down Nick!"

"It's Nicolas," he responded and Ed floated higher, almost touching the ceiling. "or Flamel."

"Yes, Flamel, yes! I get it! Put me down, PLEASE!"

"First, apologize for being so stubborn!"

"DAMMIT NICOLAS, PUT ME DOWN OR SO HELP ME, WHEN I GET BACK ON THE GROUND I'M GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS!"

Nicolas flinched, his confidence wiped off instantly. He forgot how intimidating Ed was.

"Okay, okay, sheesh." He said, making Ed land on the ground lightly like a leaf. Edward kissed the floor in gratitude. Flamel couldn't help but roll his eyes at his antics.

"It couldn't have been that bad..." he started.

Ed grabbed him by the collar and pressed his back against the wall. Nicolas yelped and looked into the angry golden eyes.

"Never. Do. That. Again." Ex-State Alchemist growled and Nicolas gulped in response. He knew better than take it as an empty threat. He didn't doubt that Ed would _love_ to punch him black and blue right now for humiliating him.

"S-s-sorry, I won't, p-promise." He said nervously. "Did it help?"

"Help what?"

"Help you believe that it works."

Ed considered it for a moment. He couldn't be that angry with Flamel. The feeling of having no control over his body, and floating in the air with no support was terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as one session with Teacher. Besides, nothing bad happened to him. Nicolas even provided a safe landing – if it was anybody else he knew, Ed would certainly end up smashed to the ground. He let go of the collar.

"I guess..." He finally admitted. "It was creepy though."

Nicolas smiled tentatively.

"Sorry."

"It's alright… but I'm so glad nobody I know can do that." Ed shuddered at the mere thought. Mustang would sure enjoy watching him squirm in his control. Winry wouldn't have to waste any wrenched to crack his head with the ceiling. And Teacher… no. Just… no.

Some thoughts are too horrifying for a man to handle.

* * *

Ed was coming back from the restroom when he noticed Nicolas talking to the girl in the reception window. At first, he thought nothing of it and proceed to his room. Then, he abruptly stopped when something struck him. He came back and listened to the voices:

"I just wanted to know if it's possible to get an extra towel," Nicolas said in perfect Amestrian with only a slight accent. Ed's mouth opened. When did his Amestrian become so impeccable?

"Yes, sir, I'll let the room service know." The girl responded… in _Cretan_. Ed rubbed his ears and checked if there was any earwax in it. Nope, he heard correctly. Flamel was talking to a Cretan girl… using Amestrian. And she understood him. It wouldn't be so freaking weird if she didn't _respond in her native language_. Did Nicolas even know what she said? Apparently, because his answer was:

"Thank you very much, ma'am." Amestrian.

"You're welcome, sir." Cretan.

Ed grabbed his head and tried to process this. What… What did this mean? There had to be an explanation for this… a better one than some fancy technique from far-away England that could do anything without any limits… right? This was impossible!

He stayed in place, so lost in thought that he didn't notice Nicolas approaching. The two crashed into each other and lost their balance.

"Hey…! Ed? What are you doing here?" Nicolas asked, surprised. His Amestrian still sounded almost flawless compared to his usual accent. Ed frowned as he picked himself up. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong," Edward hissed, glaring at him suspiciously. "what happened to your voice?"

"My voice?"

"Yeah _your_ voice! You sound like your Amestrian suddenly improved, but you spoke with a heavy accent just this afternoon." Ed jabbed his finger into his chest accusingly. "And I just heard you talking to that girl in Amestrian, but she _can't_ talk Amestrian. There's no way she could understand you."

Nicolas scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.

"So you figured it out, huh?"

"Tell me how the hell you do that!"

"But you already know, don't you?"

He pulled out the familiar stick out of his pocket. Ed shook his head in denial.

"No. Nu-huh. No way. You can make things float, I get it, it probably works off some sort of magnetic field activated by a sound-based array. You can turn a teapot into a plate because it has the same components. You can make ink or door seemingly disappear by disguising it with light waves of different frequency, but this… You can't just _make up speaking a different language!_ "

"Actually, I can." Nicolas sounded almost guiltily. "It's called ' _auribus aureum_ ', the golden ears technique. It makes the person sound to everyone around him like they're speaking their first language, and the person himself, to hear his first language in turn. It's just how it works."

Edward kept shaking his head. _No. I don't believe this._ _I can't._

"Ed, I'm talking in English right now but you hear Amestrian," Flamel told him. "You can speak in any language to me and I'll hear it as English, even if a little slanted."

"There's no way you can speak every language on the planet, you liar!" Ed said angrily in Xingese.

"I'm not a liar, I'm telling you the truth." Came a reply in Amestrian.

"Argh!" He growled in frustration. "I saw you studying Cretan lately," he began in Cretan. "but you didn't look like you enjoyed it very much."

"Actually, I don't like it." Nicolas admitted shamelessly. "I don't like Cretan. It's strange and I feel like I'm choking when I try to make that funny 'r' sound."

"You have to run out of tricks sooner or later, Mr. My-Technique-Can-Do-Anything!" Ed protested, speaking Drachman this time.

"That's not a trick, Ed-"

"Don't give me that! Can you make things appear out of thin air?!" He swiftly switched to Aerugorian. "Well? Can you?!"

"Please, don't get so upset," Nicolas pleaded. "Yes, I could, but there are certain limits to what one of my kind can do..."

Edward gave up. He leaned against the wall, let his knees bend and his body slid down. He sat on the floor and put his head between his legs. It hurt. Just trying to comprehend this physically hurt his brain.

"Ed?"

"Leave me alone..." Ed grumbled pitifully. "I feel like my head is going to explode."

There was a moment of silence. But Nicolas didn't leave. Instead, he sat at his right side, watching him with friendly concern.

"Flamel..." Ed murmured finally.

"What is it, Ed?" Nicolas asked tentatively.

"You're destroying everything I know" the scientist said, his voice sounding defeated.

"I'm not that horrible, am I?"

"No, I mean everything I ever believed in." Ed took a deep breath. "I don't know how this is possible. I don't understand it in the slightest. It seems to go against Equivalent Exchange, the law of Natural Providence, the flow of the world, everything. I just can't understand it."

"You don't have to understand it..." Nicolas said quietly. "I don't understand it myself, and I'm from Ravenclaw."

Ed peeked at him from between his knees.

"What does that even mean?"

"I mentioned to you that I was taught in a school, right? Well, there are four houses there. The house of Salazar Slytherin, is for those who are ambitious and cunning. The house of Rowena Ravenclaw, is for those who value knowledge and wisdom. The house of Helga Hufflepuff," Ed snickered hearing the name, "is for those who are lawful and honest. And the house of Godrick Griffindor, is for those who are brave and loyal."

"You said that I'd probably be in Griffindor, right?"

"Yes, but to be honest, I think you'd fit in any of the houses, which is pretty rare. Well," Nicolas hesitated. "Maybe not Hufflepuff. You don't struck me as a person who listens to authority much..."

"Good riddance!" Ed laughed. "Who'd want to be in a house called 'Fufflehuff' anyway? That sounds utterly ridiculous!"

"It's 'Hufflepuff'..." Nicolas corrected him, but was chuckling himself.

"Yeah, whatever." Ed looked at Flamel curiously. This little talk helped him get over the fact that he was facing something unsettling and completely new. "So you were in Ravenclaw, huh? Funny, I'd put you in that 'huffy-fluffy' place for obedient boys."

"Hey!" Nicolas moaned and poked him with his left elbow (which Ed's muscular arm barely felt), but didn't look offended. He looked glad that he helped Edward feel better. "I'm not a Hufflepuff!"

"You should be! ' _Please, I don't have any money!_ ' You should write a book, 'How to Surrender like a Wimp 101'."

"You're never going to let that one go, are you?"

"Not on your life!"

* * *

It was a late evening. Ed and Nicolas traveled to another town and went straight to the hotel, both wanting nothing more then to sleep in a nice warm bed. But there, an unpleasant surprise awaited them.

"What do you mean, there's only one room left?!" Ed asked indignantly. "Come on, you have to have at least two!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but there's really only one room for three people." The man said unaffected. "It's a busy season, and there's the Wine Festival coming next week."

"Wine Festival?"

"It's an annual tradition. Each year we present the best wines in the country and testers from all around the world come for the competition. It's a very entertaining celebration." The man stated with an interest equal to a zombie's.

"Just great!" Ed said with dripping sarcasm. "Because everyone wants to get drunk and lay around the streets afterwards!"

"Ed..." Nicolas said nervously, afraid that the harsh words would offend the man and they wouldn't get a place to stay at all.

"What are you anyway, a town of hobos?"

"Edward!" He interrupted him and shoved him aside, smiling apologetically at the hotel employee. "I'm sorry sir. We'll take the room for three."

"Enjoy your stay." The man said in the utmost bored tone and handed the key.

"Ed, calm down." Nicolas told him as they headed to their room. Ed looked still pretty mad. "There's nothing we can do about it. I'm sorry to invade your personal space, but I don't mind at all."

"I know, I know, it's not like I have anything against sharing a room. Me and Al shared one ever since were kids! It's just so ridiculous. I booked two rooms for us only two weeks ago via mail and even got the confirmation letter back, but we're no longer on the list for some reason." Ed shook his head. "Oh, well. At least we got a room for three, so it's not going to be too small."

Ed threw his luggage on one of the beds and went to the restroom. He quickly brushed his teeth and went back to the room to fetch his night clothing. When he opened the door, he froze.

Nicolas was just changing his clothes and took his shirt off. He had a golden locket on his neck, but that wasn't what caught Ed's attention. On his bare, thin chest, there was a horrible, ugly mark in the shape of an 'x', slightly reminiscent of another he had seen on the face of an Ishvalan once. This one went precisely over the heart. The edges were uneven, like someone carved it with a nail into his skin. It looked old, but it also seemed like it hadn't healed properly. The scar was a dark purple color, as if it was infected. Ed thought he was going to be sick.

It took Flamel about a second to realize what his friend was staring at. Quickly, as if he could still hide it, he put his clothes back on and backed away, looking at the wall. There was a dreadful silence.

Ed didn't know what to do. Of course, his curious side wanted to asked what happened, but his sensible side told him it's a horrible idea. Nicolas clearly didn't want to talk about it. He seemed... ashamed. However he got that scar, be must have believed it to be his fault. It had to be an awful memory. Seeing the placement of the mark, Ed had no doubt it was inflicted by a sadist. Now, the question was, should he act like nothing happened, or should he console his friend in pain?

 _What would Al do?_ Ed wondered, looking at Nicolas. He seemed… vulnerable. He was probably afraid that Ed was going to make fun of him, like he did with telling him that he was a wimp. But scars such as this were no laughing manner, Ed knew that too well. After all, he had more than a couple of similar scars himself.

Edward inhaled loudly, making his decision.

"Nicolas," he said softly. The man he addressed looked at him like a confused child. He didn't expect Ed to sound so gentle.

Ed, looking him directly into the eye, pinning him so he wouldn't turn away, began to remove his shirt. Flamel's eyes widened when he saw Edward's torso.

"You're not the only one with scars..." Ed said, standing still and exposed, letting the other see all the marks he received over the years.

Honestly, Nicolas shouldn't have been so surprised. He already knew that Edward Elric used to be in the military. It was only natural to receive injuries that would leave a trace in his skin. But Fullmetal Alchemist, despite his young age, survived injuries not many war veterans had. There was a scar on his left abdomen, with a matching one on the same side of his back, both left by an impalement with a supporting beam. It happened in the abandoned Baschool town nearby fort Briggs, during his fight with Kimblee. There was a deep, long gush on his side, left by the Slicer Brothers in Laboratory Number 5. There was a round mark on his left arm, where he got pierced with a metal bolt on the Promised Day. And there were many, many others, but the most attention-seeking one was all over his right shoulder. Deep pink in color, a large scar surrounding the place where his arm started: the place where his automail used to be attached. It no longer had any bits of metal in it, he got a surgery and all of the screws were removed from his flesh. But it would remain for the rest of his life. The mark of his biggest sin. He was free, but at the same time, he wasn't. And he never would be.

Flamel stared in shock for a long time before he blinked and looked at Edward's face. It was smirking.

"Whatever it is you're thinking, you are not alone." He told him, making Nicolas gasp in surprise. Without any further comment, Ed put on his night shirt on and jumped into his bed. "'Night."

Nicolas didn't say anything. Silently, he turned the light off.

* * *

Month after month passed and Edward had to admit to himself that overall, he enjoyed spending time with his new research parter. Nicolas, despite his soft nature, was a fun guy to have around. They talked with each other about some of their adventures, but both could sense that the other was holding something back. They were friends, but there was no unconditional trust between them. Ed never told Flamel about the Human Transmutation, or even his automail leg. He was careful to never be caught while doing the maintenance. In turn, Nicolas didn't reveal the past behind the scar on his chest, nor how he entered Amestris five years ago. Neither did he tell Ed the identity of the person he wanted to save. They worked, they laughed, they exchanged knowledge with each other, but they didn't share that kind of trust. Maybe because one was waiting for the other to come out with their secret first. But that never happened, for both of them were secretive, stubborn men.

Nicolas was growing desperate when he started realizing that even with Edward's help, his research wasn't going anywhere. Ed mentioned briefly the Philosopher's Stone, which peaked Flamel's interest. But he immediately explained that the last known Stone belonged to a person called Dr. Marcoh, who probably used it all up on his patients. It left Nicolas with another crushing disappointment. Ed didn't want to tell Nicolas about how the Stones were made. That knowledge was a terrible and unnecessary burden to bear.

Ed tried his best to help him in exchange for the things Nicolas taught him about магия and England, but he had no clue how. It was like trying to solve a riddle without knowing how it actually goes. Finally, they reached the point when Flamel couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, and he was frustrated all the time. Ed suggested he went to Xing to study alkahestry.

"I don't know if it's what you're looking for, but it's worth a shot," Ed said. "Maybe you'll find my brother Alphonse, or his teacher May Chang. If you do, tell them that you're my friend, they'll be happy to help you."

Nicolas thanked him wholeheartedly and decided it was time for them to split ways.

"Goodbye, Ed." He said, shaking his hand on the train station. "Even though I haven't found the cure yet, thank you for everything. You've done so much for me."

"Hey, no problem." Ed returned the gesture with a grin. "Good luck in Xing. Take care, Nick."

"It's _Nicolas Flamel_." The brown-haired man repeated with emphasis.

"Yeah, whatever."

They waved and Nicolas boarded the train to Amestris, leaving Edward behind to study on his own in Creta. His sudden loneliness might have been the cause of why just a month later, Ed returned to Resembool, where a certain blond-haired, blue-eyes mechanic was waiting for him.

* * *

"...and that's basically it." Edward finished, out of breath after speaking for such a long time. "I didn't have any sort of contact with him after that. I thought he went to Xing to study alkahestry. I have no idea why he would be after the Philosopher's Stone."

"Hmm… That's quite a story you're telling me, Fullmetal." Said Mustang with his eyebrows lifted high.

Edward creased irritably at that expression of doubt.

"Are you saying you don't believe me?"

"No, of course I believe you." The General quickly assured. "It's just… A stick? That's all?" His tone was full of exasperation. It was so _simple_ , he couldn't believe it. If it wasn't Fullmetal telling him this, he would think this was a joke. "All we need to do to bring him down is take _the stick_ from him?!"

"It won't be as easy as you think." Ed warned him. "I saw what he could do with it… Keep in mind that as long as he holds it, he's practically invincible. I don't know how or why, but it works, alright. I may have an idea or two of how to deal with him, but..."

"So, you'll help us?" The General asked with a trace of hope in his features. He certainly didn't like begging for help, but he could really use it right now. He felt exhausted and was losing way too much sleep over this, not to mention all the damn paperwork it caused him.

"Yeah… But I'll need Al." Ed looked at Roy with a serious face. "Not that I don't trust your team or anything, but I need someone who can perform alchemy, and someone _good_. There's no way I can catch Nicolas, or should I say _Flamel_ ," he added a bit patronizingly "all on my own."

General Mustang nodded and leaned back in his chair, watching Ed with a strange expression that could be only described as nostalgia. For a moment, instead of a grown man with a ponytail and in a trench coat, he saw a teenage boy with a braid, in a red coat with a Flamel Cross on it.

"So, the Elric brothers return for their last mission, huh?" He remarked, sounding partly like he was teasing, but also sad.

"Let's hope it really is the last one." Edward stated earnestly, and Mustang couldn't agree more. Reminiscing was kind of nice, but... They had been all certain this mess was over, for almost five years. The world didn't need any more horrible creations like Homunculi and the Philosopher's Stone.

Yes... hopefully, it really was the _last_ Philosopher's Stone in Amestris…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> The kidnapping story at the beginning isn't my own. It's a summary of 'Kidnapping #1: Three Idiots' in "The 36 Kidnappings of Edward Elric" by Victorious-Mind. I laughed so hard reading that story so I though I could put it in here as a "thank you" to the author. Thank you, Victorious-Mind! Other kidnappings are hilarious too, specially the one conducted by Hughes, that one's my favorite ;)
> 
> * - the name 'Milos' might sound familiar to you. There's a Fullmetal Alchemist spin-off movie called 'The Sacred Star of Milos'. Just to let you know, this is not the same city (I don't treat the movie as canon), but I used the name because I didn't want to come up with something that would sound inappropriate.
> 
> We know literally nothing about Creta or its culture, but I'm assuming it's based on France… (dodges) h-hey, quit throwing the knives at me! I have nothing against French people! I'm sorry! HELP!
> 
> (runs off)
> 
> But seriously, no offense to French people for the harsh description, it has nothing to do with you guys. It's just Amestris is based on Germany (military country), Drachma on Russia (cold and north), and Creta's west from Amestris (France is west from Germany). That's all.
> 
> The scene when Ed sees a spell being cast for the first time was originally totally different, but this sometimes happens when you get involved into writing: the characters suddenly take charge and do whatever the heck they want! xD Sorry guys, I can't help it, Nicolas Flamel is so charismatic! I hope you enjoyed Ed freaking out over magic. Heheh, I can't wait until I start torturing Alphonse. I'm so evil :3
> 
> Reminder of 'English' (Russian) words so lazy us wouldn't have to run to Google Translate ;)
> 
> [1] - 'магия' means 'magic'
> 
> [2] - 'палочка' means 'wand'
> 
> [3] - 'мастера' means 'wizard'
> 
> I'm sorry if the Russian words got annoying sometimes, I was trying to limit their use to minimum. No, it won't continue, it was only until Ed learned proper English: from now on, magic is magic, wands are wands (but still sticks) and wizards are wizards.
> 
> So the next chapter is the last flashback chapter, and we finally get into Hogwarts! I hope I'm not dragging this too long. I won't jump to Nicolas Flamel's backstory again until some time later on.
> 
> Please review, read on and enjoy! :)


	4. Trace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part of the story of how both Elric brothers ended up in Dumbledore's office. Part 3/3.

"So, the Elric brothers return for their last mission, huh?"

"Let's hope it really is the last one."

* * *

Alphonse was sitting in the kitchen, savoring the delicious slice of apple pie Winry baked for him. The said woman rested on a rocking chair in front of him, watching his obvious delight with amusement.

"You got your body back five years ago, Al, yet you're still acting like you just got your sense of taste yesterday," she said jokingly.

Al shrugged and stuffed his mouth shamelessly.

"I can't help it, it's just so _good_!" He said with his mouth full. Winry laughed.

"If it was your brother, you'd probably tell him to mind his manners right now!"

"But there's a difference between me and him doing that!" Al protested, swallowing. "Brother always ignores the etiquette, no matter what are the circumstances. I, on the other hand..." He took another big bite. "...only do that when I'm eating your apple pie!"

They laughed in unison.

"That is so true!" Winry grinned, thinking about her husband. "But, I noticed that Ed's appetite isn't as horrific as it used to be. Don't get me wrong, he still eats enough to feed an army! But..."

"I know what you mean," Al nodded. "Brother used to shovel food inside him like he was a bottomless pit. Now, he's barely like a hungry wolf." He said with a wink.

"I wonder why… maybe because he retired and he doesn't have to fight anymore?" Winry wondered. "Still, he hadn't stopped working out everyday. I don't even know why he keeps doing that. Well, at least he's not getting lazy."

"To train the mind, you must first train the body," Alphonse recited. "That's what Teacher always says. I'm working out everyday, too, you know. Otherwise, May would scold me for getting sloppy."

"She's not being too hard on you, is she?"

"You have no idea!" Al smiled with fondness. She was a both wonderful and terrifying teacher. She wasn't as bad Teacher (May Chang didn't leave him on an island for a month), but ever since he became her alkahestry student, she trained and fought him like he was her worst enemy. In all those years, he hadn't beaten her, except once. That day she was horribly distracted, and at the time, Al had no idea why. She only told him after they were engaged that it was the day she realized how madly she fell in love with him. May had a crush on Alphonse Elric ever since he saved her life in the sewers, but it took a long time to develop into something deeper, something serious. That day, she was so distressed with certainty that Al was the love of her life, that she completely dropped her guard. Al thought that is was amazingly sweet, while May was incredibly embarrassed.

"You know, Winry, I don't think it's strange that Brother's appetite decreased." Al returned to the previous topic, shaking off the dreamy thoughts about his fiancée. "Remember when he discovered that my body was still in the Gate?"

"Oh! I remember."

"Yeah, Brother had a theory that our souls, along with our bodies, somehow became connected after out failed transmutation," Al didn't need to elaborate on which transmutation he meant. "My body was kept alive because _his_ body was providing nutrients for it. Now that the connection is broken, he doesn't need to eat so much anymore. I suspect he doesn't sleep as much, either."

"Yeah, now that you mention it..." Winry realized. "He always gets up early. I haven't thought about that. He wasn't a morning person when he was a teenager."

"That would only make sense. I bet it's a big relief for you," Al's tone became joking again. "I know what a hassle it can be to wake him up!"

"I know! It's really hard! Sometimes, he takes a nap on the couch after working out, and I have to force him to go to bed instead… Good thing I always carry a wrench with me!" Winry smirked. Al's chuckle was a little nervous.

"Don't exhaust yourself, you know. You need to take care of yourself…" He said with an open look at her belly. "So, when is the baby coming?"

Winry caressed her pregnant stomach and smiled happily.

"Four months."

"You guys have a name yet?"

"Edward is convinced it's going to be a boy. I say it's going to be a girl. The one who's right gets to choose the name."

"Why do I have the feeling Brother is going to lose?"

"Because he can never win against me!"

Their laughter was interrupted by the sound of ringing.

"I'll take it." Al stood up and picked up the phone. "Hello, it's the Elric residence. How can I help you?"

"Al, is that you?" An unmistakable voice came from the receiver. Al smiled.

"Brother! You're in Central already?"

"Yeah, I just arrived in Mustangs office. Listen, Al, I need to ask you something."

Al's smile turned into a frown. Brother sounded worried, it was never a good sign. Ed left in the first train this morning to Central after receiving an urgent call from the General. He didn't say what it was about, he only promised he'd be back soon. Alphonse could only hope Ed wouldn't get into too much trouble… again.

"What is it?"

"Do you remember Nicolas Flamel?"

"Nicolas? Wait… Wasn't he your research partner during your trip to Creta?"

"Yes, that's the one. Apparently, he'd been causing trouble in Central."

"What?" Al asked, surprised. Ed told him about his friend when he came back from his trip. Nicolas was a kind and very talented individual who, according to Brother, could do extraordinary thing with an unknown technique. Ed seemed to be good friends with Nicolas. Al barely remembered the man whom they first met seven years ago, but he would never imagine he'd become a criminal. This was unexpected. "Him? You sure? But..."

"I know, and I need your help."

"My help? It's that serious?"

"I'm afraid so. Can you come to Central today?"

"Yes, but… what about Winry?"

"Tell her we'll be back in a couple of days. It's not too dangerous, but I can't pull this off without you."

"Brother, what's going on? What did Nicolas do?"

"I'll explain everything when you get here. Tell Winry I love her."

"Okay. I have to hurry up to catch the evening train before it leaves."

"Right. See ya, Al."

The connection was disrupted. Al put the phone down.

"Al?" Winry's confused voice reached him. "What is it?"

"There's something going on in Central. They need my help." Al turned and gave Winry an encouraging look. "Don't worry. We'll be both back in a couple of days. Ed says he loves you."

Winry swallowed, putting her hand on her belly unconsciously.

"Just… be careful, alright?" She asked with a nervous glimmer in her eyes.

"Of course, Winry," he assured her. "We'll get back before you know it."

"You're the more responsible one. Don't let Ed get killed."

He smiled, knowing that she was joking to ease the tension. She was always trying to be so strong for them.

"I won't. Promise."

Al gently hugged his beloved sister in law and went to his room to pack his things.

* * *

Nicolas was in pain.

Not that it was anything new to him. Actually, he'd been suffering for a long time. Emotionally, mostly. He missed his culture. He missed friends he had to leave behind. He missed his parents… only both of them were dead, so memories of them weren't such a burden compared to the rest. Knowing for a fact that he would never see his mother's gentle face, or hear his father's praise hurt him, but it was easier to handle. Uncertainty tortured him more than anything else. This one question followed him everyday, it greeted him each morning after waking:

_Will I ever be able to go home?_

Eight years had passed since the day Nicolas set off on his quest, to find a cure for that horrible illness. At first, he didn't care about the pain, his priority was to fulfill his goal. And for years, he coped with it pretty well. He experienced plenty of difficulties, but kept an optimistic attitude, believing wholeheartedly that one day he'd succeed. Meeting Edward Elric had a big impact on his life. He even gave himself a name that reminded Nicolas of the Fullmetal Alchemist, a symbol which, as he explained to Edward, represented both alchemy and hope. For a long time, he remained strong and in good spirit.

But every man has a breaking point somewhere.

Although he knew this had been building up in him for years, it caught him completely off guard when it happened. What he had kept at bay for years finally hit him with full force, in a blow so powerful it made him physically ill. Nicolas Flamel was lying on his bed, breathing heavily like he just run a full marathon. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, his eyes were glassy and bloodshot. Feeling hot and cold at the same time, he probably had a fever, and a high one. But the worst, the absolute worst, was the blinding pain, coming off in waves from the center of his chest. His hand unconsciously gripped the shirt over his heart.

He already went to the doctor and took the prescribed medicine, but he doubted it could help him. It wasn't the body that was sick… it was _his mind_.

It all started when he got the Philosopher's Stone.

Nothing more but a rumor, at first. He asked around and found out about a _coup d'etat_ that occurred five years earlier in Central. Civilians weren't told much, only that the higher-ups intended to use the entire population of Amestris in an alchemical experiment. It shocked him at first. Although soon he recalled how five years ago, during the solar eclipse, he lost consciousness for a while. Afterwards, he remembered nothing, except that dreadful feeling of being _trapped_ in a pit of darkness. He didn't think much about it until now. Sensing dark business behind it, Nicolas would gladly leave it be. But then, he heard another thing: the leader of the plot to destroy Amestris apparently possessed a Philosopher's Stone. Those news were simply exhilarating. It wasn't just a legend anymore… it was real, it existed, and it was _right there_ , within his reach!

With a little help of magic, Nicolas managed to sneak past the guards to investigate the undergrounds of Central. It was a bone-chilling experience, to say the least. Crashed walls, shattered skeletons and stains of blood were only a small part of what he discovered there. After studying alchemy with Ed for almost a full year, Flamel could easily recognize the pentagon-based transmutation circle as a taboo practice. But when he figured out what the circle was _for_ , he felt so disgusted he actually threw up on the spot.

People, hundreds, killed. Why? For Philosopher's Stones.

The moment he realized it, that making even one small pebble of a Philosopher's Stone required mass murder, he knew he wouldn't do it. He could never do it. He was too weak to even consider it. The mere thought would make him want to puke again.

But, he desperately needed the Stone. He couldn't back away, just because he was scared and pathetic! All the evidence pointed that once, there had been a large-scale production of Philosopher's Stones going on here. Which meant that some of them could still exist. If that was the case, he didn't need to make one himself. He would just have to find a complete Stone.

It turned out much easier than expected. In England, objects of great power had many protection enchantments on them, to prevent stealing and such. Naturally, they could not be summoned. But in Amestris, where nobody used such security measures, so it was a different story. Flamel suspected that he might be able to locate a Philosopher's Stone with the ' _Accio_ ' spell… as long as he knew what it looked like, and if it was close enough.

It took several days and breaking into various dangerous places, but eventually he found it, buried beneath thousands of tons of rubble. He managed to uncover it with a couple of spells. When it landed in the palm of his hand, he felt relief he hadn't felt in years. He caressed the surface of the Stone almost lovingly.

"At last… It's been so long…" He whispered. "Eight years, I've been looking for you..."

Flamel looked closer at what he was holding. It was round, smooth and shining, crimson red in color. The Fifth Element, the Perfect Substance, the Philosopher's Stone. It was… beautiful. He could feel its power through his fingertips.

"I really got you!" Nicolas burst into overjoyed laughter, scarcely believing it. "I finally… finally got you…!"

Happy tears filled his hazel eyes and poured down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away.

"I… I'll be able to go home." He said. "I'll be able to see-"

An unexpected pain exploded in his chest, making him curl in agony. He almost drop the Stone.

"Bloody hell-! It **hurts** …!" He gasped, holding his chest and struggling to breathe properly.

The pain was suffocating. It came so suddenly that for a moment he feared he was having a heart attack. He struggled to calm himself down.

"It's okay, it's going to be… fine. You're not dying. It's... acting up now, because you're…" He inhaled carefully. "I am... I'm thinking too much… and... I'm talking to myself." He shook his head when it occurred to him. "If anybody heard me now, they'd think I'm insane..." A weak chuckle escaped him.

" _Freeze!_ "

Nicolas stiffened when he heard a sudden yell from behind.

_I jinxed it, didn't I…?_

With difficulty, he turned around. Thirty feet away, a man in a blue military uniform with blond pageboy haircut was pointing a gun at him.

"Who are you?" The solider asked, his green eyes shining in slight panic.

"Um… Nicolas Flamel..." He uttered without a second thought, still trying to get over the pain. "And who are you...?"

"Second Lieutenant Denny Brosh," the man introduced himself roughly, stepping closer "What are you doing here, Mr. Flamel? How did you get here? This area is off limits!"

"Uh..."

Nicolas didn't know what he should do. He'd always been careful until this point and hadn't been spotted, so he was clueless about how to act. Why did he had to slip _now_ , of all times?! Maybe reaching his goal at long last made him a little careless...

"Put your hands in the air!" Second Lieutenant Brosh demanded, his hands tightening around the gun.

Flamel unconsciously looked at his left hand, where he was still holding the Philosopher's Stone. Brosh noticed the object and paled visibly.

"Is that…?! Drop your weapon!" He screamed, turning the safety off. " _Put your hands in the air or I'll shoot!_ "

Nicolas, inwardly cursing himself for not being careful enough in such critical moment, put his hand into the right pocked and grabbed his wand.

The solider, probably expecting Nicolas to be drawing out a gun, fired. The bullet missed his arm barely an inch, nearly causing Flamel to lose balance in panic. He hastily waved his wand and apparated with a loud: 'CRACK!' before the second bullet could reach him.

He landed near the hotel he was staying at. Shaking from the intense experience he just went through, he put both the Stone and the wand into his pocked and leaned against the wall. He let out a deep sigh of relief.

 _Phew!_ He thought. _That was a close one-_

At this moment the pain decided to make a comeback. Nicolas muffled a cry by biting his lower lip, and started rubbing his chest to get rid of the overwhelming feeling. Spots appeared in his vision, his head became dizzy.

_Great, I'm going to pass out at this rate…_

Gathering the remains of strength he had, Nicolas staggered inside building. A familiar, mortifying voice echoed in his mind:

**Do you know how this feels, to have everything you care about taken from you? Imagine having your heart ripped out from your chest… And then think _worse_.**

He stopped, trying to regain his composure.

 _It's not real… It's not real…_ he held onto the thought desperately. A weak whisper left his mouth with tremor:

"Go away… Leave me alone..."

Another surge of pain appeared in his chest. It felt like a sharp edge was slicing his skin.

**How does it feel? Painful? Insufferable?**

Nicolas closed his eyes shut. He could see the face of the person that the voice belonged to: a young, pretty face with long dark hair and ocean blue eyes, which held a dangerous, almost evil glimmer in them. Just a moment earlier, he was well aware that the pain was causing him to hallucinate. But his grip on reality was quickly slipping.

 _How could you do this to me?_ _Why?!_ He screamed in his head.

**You brought this upon yourself, you foolish boy.**

"I never wronged you…" He chocked out. Physical and emotional exhaustion were causing his entire body to shiver. "I only asked for help… I begged... It's not fair!"

**The w** **orld isn't fair.**

_Why nobody wants to help me! Why! Why is everyone against me?!_

"Sir, are you alright?!"

A scared voice brought back from the dark depths of his consciousness. He blinked, trying to focus on a face completely different: blond hair and brown eyes, with a concerned look in them. It belonged to one of the female workers in the hotel.

"Are you sick? Should I call the ambulance?"

There was no way he was going to a hospital now. It was only temporary… or so he hoped.

"No..." he said, trying to smile. It must have looked so pathetic. "I'm okay. Really. Just tired..."

She didn't look convinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah… But I wouldn't mind if you helped me walk to my room..." Nicolas admitted. "If it's alright..."

"Very well sir..." The girl put a supporting hand of his shoulder. The two slowly walked to Flamel's room.

The pain momentarily faded, but the weariness remained. Nicolas didn't lie when he said he was tired. He could barely keep his eyelids open. He was truly grateful for the girl's help, but he didn't have enough strength to thank her.

Suddenly, another memory, the warm, friendly words of Edward Elric came to him:

'Nicolas, you're not the only one with scars… Whatever it is you're thinking, you are not alone.'

 _But I am,_ Flamel thought bitterly, and with this in his mind, the pain was back, along with that other, bone-chilling voice.

 **Words mean nothing.** **Until you return, I'm keeping your little treasure with me.**

"Sir, you're shaking. Are you sure you don't want me to call a doctor?"

"No… I'm… almost there..."

The girl nodded and opened the door to the room for him. She didn't know that Nicolas wasn't talking to her anymore.

* * *

Hours passed, the evening turned into night and the pain _still_ refused to go away. It was pure agony. His chest burned, it felt like flames were turning his insides into charcoal and his skin into melted wax. But if that was bad, it was nothing compared to what was going on in his head. Images were flashing one after another like in some blinding slide-show. Faces, events, places… And then, there was this horrible feeling of uncertainty.

He got it. He finally got the Stone, the answer to all of his problems. But the Philosopher's Stone… Should he just ignore it, how it had been made, what it took? He found it difficult to even think about that: he had never seen a person die in his life. He hoped it would remain that way for a long time; _Not looking forward to seeing Thestrals, thank you very much_. But now, there it was, in the palm of his sweated hand, the Stone, red as blood for a reason. Still, he couldn't let it go just because of that.

"I need you." Nicolas was whispering in the empty room, turning the Stone around with his fingers. "I need you so bad! I know what you are." He took a deep breath. Even that simple action hurt. "I know how you were made. I saw the circle, the blood. People. So many people… but they're dead, aren't they? They're dead… long gone… I can't change that. Nobody can change that. Am I supposed to throw you away just because you're a product of murder?!" He gritted his teeth, making his final decision. "This is the only way. This is… the right thing to do… I can't just give up here. I can't, I won't!"

He hoped that it would make him feel better, verbalizing this conviction. But instead, when he thought his pain couldn't possibly get any worse… it doubled.

A scream of inhuman suffering rang in the dark room.

" _I CAN'T STAND THIS ANYMORE!_ "

* * *

Alphonse arrived in General Mustang's office late in the evening. Roy and Ed were already waiting there for him, Roy in his similar pose of filling and signing mountains of papers, Edward busy with developing a new theory in his notebook. Of course, Al could only suspect it was an alchemical theory, because even he couldn't read his brother's notes. For a regular person, they looked like a normal travelogue. Every decent alchemist (whenever he could perform alchemy or not) made sure his research was coded, so it wouldn't be stolen or misused. With a science as dangerous as alchemy, there was no such thing as being too careful.

Mustang lifted his head to meet Al's golden eyes. Was it because the younger Elric managed to come so fast, or because the General could finally take a break from the paperwork – either way, he was relieved.

"Alphonse. It's so good to see you." He said sincerely, getting up from his desk to shake Al's hand.

"Likewise, General Mustang." Al bowed his head with respect, a habit gained from his training in Xing. "You look well."

"You see, Fullmetal? This is how you greet a General!" Roy turned to look at his ex-subordinate with disapproval.

"Huh?" Ed blinked and snapped his head up, only now realizing someone new entered the room. "Al! You got here quickly!" A joyful grin spread on his face. He dropped his notebook on the couch and swiftly approached his brother.

Al brought his right hand up in a gesture that could be interpreted as a wave or a high five, and Ed clasped it with his own. They squeezed their fingers tightly and exchanged understanding looks.

After Alphonse got his body back, he felt constant need for physical reassurance. It was natural, considering that he hadn't been able to feel anything for years. Ed had nothing against hugging his brother, even twenty of thirty times a day, but Al soon started being self-conscious about the stares. Although their friends completely understood, people who didn't know their story, gave them many strange looks. Al, determined to act and be normal again, discussed it with Ed. For their mutual comfort, they switched to a different, more subtle gesture. This quick but strong grip became sufficient for Al to feel fully content, so it soon developed into a habit. Each time they greeted each other or parted, the Elric brothers would clasp each others' hand in a way that could be only described as brotherly.

Roy watched them with a warm smile. Truly, the bond those two shared was remarkable.

"I'm glad you both are here. I believe we need to fill you in." He said, getting straight to the point.

"Right." Al nodded. "What's going on?"

"Flamel's got a Philosopher's Stone." Ed stated without a preamble. Al looked at him, shocked.

"What?!" He glanced between the General and his brother. "How? Where did he get it?"

"Apparently, there was one Philosopher's Stone buried under rubble in the undergrounds of Central Headquarters," Mustang couldn't help but grimace as he explained: "We have reasons to believe it was made out of… convicts, from the prison next to Laboratory number 5. We didn't know how many of those were created, we assumed they were all used up by the Homunculi..."

"...But they weren't." Al finished grimly.

"Unfortunately. How that man managed to find it though, after we searched that place a dozen of times clean, is a mystery to us."

"Nicolas must have used his stick to track it somehow," Ed cut in "I didn't know it could do that, but it can do a lot of strange things. Locating the Philosopher's Stone isn't such a stretch, next to levitation, instant language translation or turning a cup into a rat."

Mustang and Alphonse looked at Ed with disbelief.

"What?" Roy's eyes bulged. Ed couldn't recall if he'd ever seen the Flame Alchemist, the great master of the perfect pokerface, so openly stunned. "You haven't told me that!"

Creating life with was impossible. Every the beginner alchemist knew that. Mere manipulation of living tissues, even as primitive as plants, was a very complex science. But making them out of dead matter? Human transmutation, the most dangerous of alchemical practices, was a taboo for a reason.

"You never mentioned the living transmutation to me either, Brother..." For the first time in a long time, Al looked at Edward with doubt. "Are you sure it wasn't a trick, or…?"

"I _told_ you, I have no idea how this thing works!" Ed said impatiently. "But no matter how unbelievable it sounds, it doesn't change the fact that it's **real**. I held that thing in my hand, I used it myself. It looks like an ordinary stick, but it's _not_. It contains some kind of power that is completely different from alchemy. It doesn't follow the rules, it doesn't require Equivalent Exchange. And it definitely doesn't have a Philosopher's Stone in it, either."

"How do you know?" Roy inquired, trying to regain his usual, indifferent expression of mild curiosity. There were still traces of shock on his face left.

"Think, Mustang. I gave up my alchemy. I don't think I could use even a Philosopher's Stone if I tried. Not only that, there's no reaction, no red light, no light of any kind. Besides, why would Flamel steal a Stone if he already had one?"

"Why _would_ he steal a Stone, anyway?" Alphonse asked them. "You told me he went to study alkahestry in Xing."

"The only reason I can think of is that he thinks it would cure this illness he's been doing research on..." Ed pondered with a finger on his chin. "But I don't know. Can a Philosopher's Stone cure a sickness somebody was born with? Dr. Marcoh used a Stone to heal his patients, but those were regular diseases. Would the same be possible with eliminating ascribed attributes?"

"What sickness are we talking about, Fullmetal?"

"I explained it already. I don't really know. Something to do with gradual muscle atrophy. Nicolas was researching it without access to the patient… whoever that is." Ed frowned. "I got a bad feeling about this. Why he'd never tell me who he was trying to cure? That's strange."

"And you never thought about asking him?" Said the younger Elric. "Didn't you spent an entire year researching together?"

"Yes, but he didn't look like he wanted to talk about it. Or..." Edward's eyes widened in sudden realization.

"What is it Brother?"

"Maybe it wasn't that he didn't want to tell me… Maybe he **couldn't** tell me."

"Why? You think somebody could be blackmailing him?"

"Possibly..." Ed murmured.

"But the way you described it, Fullmetal, he's completely devoted to his cause. You also said that the person with that illness is someone he cares about very deeply."

"True, true…" Ed rubbed his temple. "We must be missing something. I'm not sure what, though."

"Does it help us in any way?" Al asked, looking between his brother and the General.

"I don't know… Edward?"

"I don't know either." Ed paused. "But, I think there's a bright side to all of this."

"A bright side to the fact that a Philosopher's Stone, which wasn't supposed to exist, got stolen by a man with power that we know very little about?" Mustang said sarcastically. "Do tell."

"I know Nicolas well enough to assure you that whatever he plans to do with the Stone, he's not going to cause any harm. He's a softy. He's got such power in his hands already, yet he's afraid of regular muggers. His biggest crime is reading in a library without a permit. He'd cry a river if he stepped on a kitten's tail."

While Al looked appalled with the thought, Mustang misinterpreted what Edward meant.

"Are you suggesting we should just let him go on his merry way with a Philosopher's Stone, because he's a 'nice guy'?!"

"Of course not!" Ed replied, sounding almost offended. "He clearly has no idea what he has in his possession. He's always been a sensible kid. If he knew how a Philosopher's Stone is made, he'd be terrified."

"Unless his behavior towards you was all a facade." Roy pointed out carefully. "You have to consider that."

"I did, but I really don't so. A year is an awfully long time for acting, Mustang." Ed caught his former superior's meaningful glance and added: "I know _some_ people can keep an act for years. But you've never met Nicolas. He's not that kind of a person. He's got no confidence, not to mention acting skills, and he's a terrible liar."

While the General considered that, Alphonse asked:

"If you're so certain that he's not dangerous, Brother, why did you say you need my help?"

"That's a good question, Fullmetal." Roy agreed. "Now that we know his weakness, we can apprehend him much easier."

"I never said he's not dangerous. Just because I considered him my friend, doesn't mean he won't attack me," Ed explained with a serious expression, crossing his arms. "You said that he fled every time you cornered him, which makes sense... I'll have to try to talk to him myself, if we want to prevent it this time. However, I don't expect him to be very cooperative. The fact is that he stole that Stone, even if it's something I didn't expect of him. Let's not forget that he can disarm me with just two words. He'll probably be very defensive."

"You want to talk to him even though you expect him to attack you?" Al was looking really concerned. He remembered the promise he'd given to Winry. "Are you sure about this, Brother?"

"That's were you come in, Al!" Ed grinned. "You're an alchemist and an alkahestrist. You can fight from distance, just like him. I'm confident that you can avoid his attacks. You'll be my backup."

"What about me?" Mustang interrupted. "I can fight from distance as well. Not to mention, I can transmute without a circle just like Al."

Ed smirked at him.

"No offense, Colonel, but Flamel can make water out of nowhere, and we all know what that means when you're involved."

Roy winced and shot Ed an irritated look.

"I'm a _General_ , Fullmetal. Just because he can use water, doesn't mean I'm-"

"...useless?" Ed raised his eyebrow mockingly.

"-unable to handle the situation," Mustang finished, ignoring him. "This mission is in the highest priority. Normally they wouldn't allow a General to participate, but considering that we're facing such a dangerous opponent..."

"Are you saying I couldn't handle it?" Al butted in, putting his arms on his hips in defiance. Mustang turned to Alphonse, surprised at his outburst. The younger Elric was acting like Edward all of a sudden.

"Of course not, Al. I'm only asking why is your brother so insistent that you two do this all on your own..." Roy sighed and muttered: "...as always."

"Because," Ed stated with emphasis, "Nicolas knows me and Al. He's going to trust us more than he would a battalion of soldiers with a General leading them."

"Then, your plan is to negotiate?" Roy asked exasperated. "That's it?"

"Yup!"

"You two are going to _negotiate_ with a man who has a Philosopher's Stone _and_ another extremely dangerous weapon?"

"Aha."

The Flame Alchemist supported his face in the palm of his gloved hand and sighed. This brat would be the death of him.

"This must be your most reckless idea yet..." He said, but he couldn't deny the logic of Ed's reasoning. They couldn't simply take Flamel by force, they already tried that and failed every single time. They had to try something else, and the Elric brothers were the only people who knew anything about Nicolas Flamel. As much as Roy hated to admit it, they really were his last hope.

Suddenly Al smiled mischievously, and Mustang seriously started to wonder if the brothers hadn't switched personalities.

"Well, actually, there was this one time in South City..." he started and Ed's eye's widened. Ed interrupted somewhat frantically:

"Al we DO NOT talk about that time!"

"But Brother-"

"Quiet Alphonse! You promised not to tell the Colonel!"

"Well, he's not a Colonel anymore, is he?"

"Al, _you_ …!"

Roy sighed, feigning irritation at the two adult men acting like children, but in reality, he was welcoming the lighter, joking mood. After a whole week of stress over the mysterious thief, this was such a relief.

"Now I'm really curious," he said to Al with a smirk "What kind of mess Fullmetal brought himself into that he doesn't want me to know so badly?"

"You see, there was this bar that..."

"Al, SHUT UP!"

* * *

After approximately an hour of pointless storytelling and arguing, which left all three of them in high spirits (even if the retired State Alchemist pretended to be pouting), they discusses their plan of approaching Nicolas Flamel.

The reason why this thief was so easy to track was because he visited various places, including hotels and hospitals, and never bothered to hide his identity while doing so. Ed found it quite ironic: a foreigner, obliviously naive and unfamiliar with Central city, yet completely invincible when it came to capturing him. Nicolas seemed to disappear whenever military people or guns showed up. Al asked if somebody in disguise tried sneaking up on him, like first Lieutenant Breda, an inconspicuous solider excellent in delicate situations like this one. Mustang replied that yes, they've tried that twice, but somehow Flamel still managed to get away, leaving behind a clueless solider who was unable to explain what happened. Ed had a bad feeling about that, but he didn't say anything when asked why he was so pale.

Finally, after hours of debate, they decided to go with Ed's proposition and let him confront Flamel one on one. Al would stay hidden and close, because meeting just one familiar person at a time would lower their opponent's guard, maybe even allowing Ed to take advantage of the situation and disarm Nicolas. Alphonse was less than happy, but obliged, seeing that he didn't know Flamel and his presence really could mess things up.

Flamel's plan of travel was extremely obvious after a couple of encounters: they figured he would just go from one hotel to the next nearest one. Roy's informants gathered that Nicolas was currently sick, which considerably slowed him down and made him unable to travel far. According to the schedule, he'd show up show up in the Pink Rose hotel in the eastern side of Central the day after tomorrow.

Edward, preparing for the encounter, wondered what will his so-called friend say when they meet face to face again, after all this time.

* * *

"Hello… Flamel."

The wizard stopped and turned on his heel, pointing his wand. They must have found him again. Not surprised anymore, he was already prepared to apparate or cast a Confundus Charm. But upon recognizing the other man, Nicolas froze.

About twenty feet away in the hallway stood Edward Elric himself, looking at him with a calm, unreadable expression. The hotel was usually empty, not being a fancy or very popular place, and especially not in the morning. Nicolas was still for a moment, unable to comprehend what was his old friend doing in a place like this.

"E-Edward!" He stuttered finally. In surprise he forgot to lower his wand.

"Hey, relax." Ed lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not here to fight you. I just want to talk."

Nicolas immediately dropped his wand, ashamed. "S-sorry about that, Ed. I just..."

Ed waved his right hand lightly. Clearly, he wasn't shocked or offended by this less than warm reception. Nicolas glanced around and said shakily:

"Sorry, I need to make sure nobody is going to spy on us… You can never be sure..."

Flamel waved his hand over the wall and whispered " _Muffliato_...", while Edward inwardly cursed himself for overlooking such an obvious flaw in his plan. He told Al he'd give him a signal, but how he was supposed to do that, if his brother couldn't hear him? But he masked those thoughts as he regarded Nicolas contemplatively. Flamel didn't even notice that Ed didn't question why he wanted to place a security spell in the first place.

"So." The former alchemist drawled. "How was Xing?"

Nicolas' shoulders tensed. _He doesn't know, does he?_ he thought. Ed couldn't know that he took a Stone and was now chased by the military, right? Edward wasn't a State Alchemist anymore, he told him himself!

"Good! Very, uh, good..." Flamel forced a smile on his face, but his tone was barely convincing.

Ed's eyes slightly narrowed.

"You know, you haven't changed a bit. You're still a horrible liar, Nicolas."

Nicolas jerked. This was the exact repetition of their second encounter. There was nothing he could hide from Ed, was there? But the last time, Ed didn't bust him for breaking into a State Alchemist library (more than once!), perhaps he'd help him out now too.

"Hey, Ed, you won't believe this! I finally found the cure I was looking for!" Nicolas changed his demeanor from defensive to cheerful. "I can finally go home!"

"Oh really?" Ed showed absolutely no emotion in his voice or on his face.

"Yes, and I-"

Nicolas let out a gasp and held his chest. _Dammit, not now…_ he thought, trying to conceal his pain. He knew the effort was futile though, there was no way Ed wouldn't see through it.

"Hey, are you okay...? Nicolas!" Ed relaxed attitude turned into concern and he unconsciously took a step forward.

"I- I'm fine." Flamel breathed out, showing him to stay back. "Just a cramp. Don't worry about it."

Ed dropped his extended hand, keeping distance for reasons unknown to Nicolas. He regarded him thoughtfully and asked:

"Is your scar hurting you?"

Nicolas lifted his head and looked at him with alarm. How did he...? Wait. Ed saw his scar once, didn't he? How he could have forgotten?

"Pardon my curiosity, but…" There was suspicion in Ed's voice and Nicolas didn't like it. "This kind of injury should have healed already. And I wouldn't expect you to have phantom pains in a nice weather like this… What's wrong with your scar? Is that why you wanted the Stone? Are you planning on using it to heal yourself?"

Nicolas avoided meeting his eyes. He knew he was cornered, but he still tried to pretend he didn't understand what the other was talking about.

"Stone? What Stone?" Ed answered sternly:

"Don't play dumb. You stole a Philosopher's Stone, Flamel."

Although there was much truth to the statement, Nicolas couldn't help but be indigent.

"I… I didn't steal it! I found it! It was abandoned, it belonged to nobody!"

"It belonged to nobody, you say?" Ed asked heatedly. "Tell me something, Nicolas. Do you know who made this Stone? Do you know how it was made?"

"I don't know who made it..." Nicolas said quietly. "But I do know how it was made, sadly."

The golden eyes searched him, the amber orbs strangely cold. "So you do know."

Nicolas only nodded. The look Edward gave him next was close to incredulous.

"And you're just fine with it?"

"It doesn't matter how or why..." Flamel said carefully. "We can't change the past. We can only change the future. And if we want to do so, we need to use all the resources we have."

"In other words, you don't care." Ed scoffed, disgusted. "I would never expect this ignorance from you, Nicolas. You disappoint me."

Nicolas blinked at him with surprise.

"Ed?" He asked weakly.

"I thought you were smarter than this." Edward continued. "But you really are a naive, stupid kid."

For some unknown reason, those words stung… no, he did know the reason. He looked up to Ed, even though he was younger than him. He was inspiration, his mentor in research for a whole year. Ed was his _friend_. Hearing such thing from a friend wasn't a pleasant thing.

"What are you talking about...?"

"Do you even know what you're doing?" The man growled with barely contained rage, boiling beneath the surface. "Do you have any idea what kind of misery the Philosopher's Stone brings to everyone involved with it? You don't know anything. You don't understand the price."

Now, Nicolas couldn't help but turn defensive.

"Listen, Ed. I'm not happy with how the Stone was made. I'm not saying that I don't care. But, let's say, would you throw away a child just because his father was a killer? Would you?"

Ed looked like he wanted to slap him in the face. He took a deep breath, struggling to remain civil.

"I don't think you understand _what the Stone is_. Stop being such an ignorant moron."

Nicolas finally snapped.

"You don't get it!" He shouted.

"You think **I** don't get it?!" Ed yelled back at him, his self-restraint instantly lost as well. "You IDIOT! I spent YEARS looking for that thing! And it nearly destroyed me, and not to mention the lives of everyone around me!"

"I **need** the Stone, Ed! You just don't understand-"

" _Understand_? Understand what?! That you want to find a cure for someone important for you? You stupid, selfish idiot! I was in the exact same position! I devoted my life to find a Philosopher's Stone so I could cure my brother! You think I don't understand how you feel?!"

There was honesty and pain in those words. Nicolas remember Ed's words again, how he wasn't alone. But even now, Flamel just felt so utterly, _totally_ alone.

"You don't, because you can't." Flamel said, glaring at him. "At least you had your brother always on your side, supporting you wherever you went. But I..." He swallowed, but it didn't help his dry throat much. "...I don't."

Ed was silent for a moment, trying to calm himself so they could talk about it, instead of spending the entire day yelling at each other. Finally, he said:

"Look, I understand that you want to find that cure really badly. But the Stone isn't the answer you're looking for, Nicolas. Have you even researched alkahestry?"

Nicolas shook his head.

"No. It wouldn't do any good."

"Why would you think so? You said you'd go to Xing!" Ed was confused. He frowned. "Why haven't you? What changed your mind?"

"You want to know what's really ironic?" Flamel ignored the question. Bitterness crept into his voice. "I spent **years** , trying to figure out what can cure the illness, but I didn't realize that I knew what it was all along! I knew it from the moment I met you!"

Ed got even more confused.

"What?"

"I knew that alchemy was the key, but what kind of alchemy? You told me, but I completely overlooked it. I remembered it only a couple of months ago, after we parted in Creta."

"Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You asked me if I ever heard about the Philosopher's Stone."

"I did?" Ed scratched his head. "I don't remember that."

"You did. I should have known!" Nicolas laughed hysterically. "The answer was there, right in front of me! But I was too blind to notice!"

"Nicolas..." Ed said with deep worry written over his face. "You sound crazy."

"...who knows, maybe I am." Flamel said when he finally calmed down. He gave his friend a depressed smile. He looked awful. His hair was in more disarray than usual, his skin was pale, his forehead was wet with sweat, and his entire body was trembling like he was exhausted. "I'm sorry. But I just can't take this anymore. It's been… too much. I'm sorry Ed, this is the only way."

"Nicolas..." Ed started, but his voice was caught in his throat. There were many conflicting emotions going through his mind right now. He was torn between giving Nicolas the beating of his life, slapping him in the face to snap him out of this, dragging him to a mental hospital or grabbing him in a hug and _just letting this poor man have a damn break_.

Suddenly, an echo of a closing door reached their ears. Nicolas did snap out of it, much to Ed's relief, but there was now anxious alert in his features.

"Edward. Did you see anybody else coming here?" He asked, lifting his wand.

Ed hesitated for a split second. He knew that the sound wasn't Al's fault, his brother was too careful to let something like that betray his presence. The draft in the building must have slammed a door closed. But, that wasn't what Nicolas was asking about. He wanted to know if Ed had come alone. It was a question if Edward brought the military with him… which he did. They waited for the signal outside. What should he say? The truth or a lie? He opted for a half-truth.

"It's probably the wind." Ed shrugged, showing indifference.

Nicolas scowled, and Ed had a bad feeling. It was strange to see such distrustful expression on that usually kind face. Flamel waved his stick firmly and murmured:

" _Homenum Revelio._ "

Ed almost groaned in disbelief. _Nicolas can_ _ **detect**_ _people? That's ridiculous!_ He thought with frustration. Nicolas never taught him that spell. Not fully knowing what his opponent was capable of was a big disadvantage.

"You lied to me."

 _Argh, this is_ _ **not**_ _good,_ thought Ed.

" _Carpe Retractum._ "

Before he knew what was going on, Ed's back was pressed against the wall. His entire body tightly tied up with thick ropes that appeared out of nowhere.

He desperately tried to fix his stupid, stupid mistake.

"What are you doing?! That's…! That's only Al! My brother!" Ed said, struggling against the restrains. "He's just waiting for me to come back after I talked with you!"

"Then, why you didn't say so?" Nicolas shot back, his angry expression giving Ed no doubt that he didn't believe a word.

"I completely forgot about it! Really! Let me go!"

"Edward Elric, why are you lying to me?" Nicolas demanded as if he hadn't done the same thing a couple of times in their conversation. "Have you set me up?"

Ed clenched his jaw and said nothing. They both stared for a moment as if they were seeing each other for the first time. And not in a good way.

"I see." There was more hurt in that short statement than Edward believed was possible. "I thought you were my friend, Ed."

An angry yell escaped from Ed's mouth, before he registered that Nicolas was pointing his stick at him again.

"Well what about YOU?! How can you just ignore that there are human sou-"

" _Silencio_!"

Ed was still moving his lips, yet no sound could come out of them. He looked at Nicolas with utter betrayal. First the man tied him up for no reason, how DARE he take his ability to speak!

"I'll let you speak if you answer one question truthfully." Nicolas looked him in the eye. Hazel versus gold. "Edward, have you sold me out to the military?"

Flamel was waiting for a nod or shake of the head, but Ed's glare was as good as a confirmation. Nicolas turned away from him closing his eyes in an expression of sadness and anger. Then, unexpectedly, he released Ed from the spell with a flick of his wand. Edward, aware that he pretty much messed up the whole operation, decided to stall for time. If he were lucky, perhaps he could uncover extra information. He hoped Al would step in soon, figuring out that he wouldn't be able to send the signal with the _Muffliato_ spell on the door.

"Allow me to ask something. Why are you running around Central?" Ed asked slowly. "You got what you want, right? So why you're still here? Why haven't you fled to England yet?"

"Because I need time." Nicolas run his free hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know how to use the Philosopher's Stone yet. I'm worried it may not work back in England."

"Why?"

"You see… There is something I haven't told you." Nicolas was hesitant. Ed wondered why he was even talking to him, after they just established that they didn't trust each other anymore. What Edward didn't realize was that Flamel still respected him. This was why he had released the blond from the _Silencio_ spell a moment ago. Ed could be disarmed and pushed against the wall, but he was still superior between the two of them, in a sense. At least that's how Nicolas saw it. "England… is really far away. But not in a normal way. You can't just walk there. It's… you need a special artifact to get there." There was a soft sigh of worry. "And things work there differently than in Amestris. I noticed it soon after I arrived here. Magic is weaker. What if it's the same with England? What if alchemy is weaker at home? What if it doesn't work there at all?"

"Why wouldn't it work?" Ed asked with bewilderment. Nicolas looked at him curiously. "You said that it your techniques are stronger in England, didn't you? Shouldn't that result in alchemy being even more powerful there? The two aren't connected, true, but that could mean that instead of one replacing the other, they both enhance each other..."

As Nicolas listened to Ed's involuntary lecture, his eyes slowly opened wider. By the time Edward finished, he was gaping at him with expression of pure amazement. It reminded Ed of the look he gave him the day they were on the train to Creta few years back.

"You're right." Flamel said, and a grin spread on his face.

Ed stared and then realized something. He just made another huge mistake. His own genius mind worked against him. He would have punched himself for being so stupid if he wasn't tied up.

"You're… absolutely right!" Flamel slapped himself in the forehead, still grinning. "I've been so worked up over nothing! NOTHING!" He burst into elated laughter. "Hahaha, this is brilliant! I can actually go home! I can go home **now**...!"

He was laughing, but at the same time, Nicolas was clearly in pain, judging by the way he held his chest. This bizarre combination of joy and suffering made him look like a total madman. Frankly, Ed was terrified.

"Wait! Nicolas, what are you…!"

But Nicolas wasn't listening to him anymore. He pulled something from under his black shirt. It took Ed a second before he recognized it.

The day Ed witnessed Flamel's scarred chest, he briefly noticed a golden locket on his neck. He didn't pay much attention to it back then. Now, seeing it again, Edward could tell that this shiny item was something special. It wasn't exactly a locket, or a necklace either, more like a medallion. It was round, about two inches wide, with a sun symbol engraved on it. Only it didn't look like a normal ornament, but almost like a transmutation circle. There was a faint inscription on the lower half, but Ed wasn't close enough to read it.

Nicolas took the golden medallion off his neck, with a wand in the other hand. He made a circling movement with his wand and whispered profoundly:

" _Saecula Saeculorum_."

A shiver went down Ed's spine, he had a feeling something grand was going to happen. A bright light erupted from the tip of the wooden stick, creating a floating, four-feet-wide circle in the air. There were white sparks dancing around it, like stars glimmering next to the full moon on the midnight sky. Ed had no idea where such poetic analogy came from. Suddenly, there was a strong wind in the closed room, causing the hair and clothes of the two men flutter in the rushing air.

"What the hell is that?!" Ed exclaimed, staring at what he assumed was probably a portal. He had suspected that Nicolas used a magic technique to travel to Amestris, or something illegal, but this… This was so much more spectacular than he expected.

"My way home." Flamel answered, although it was not needed. He gave Edward a small smile, along with surprisingly pleading look. "Please don't try to follow me, Ed."

"So, you're just going to run away?" Ed snarled, burning with rage. "As a thief, a liar, and a traitor?"

In Flamel's eyes was only sadness. The perspective of seeing his home just in a few moments made him instantly forgive what he considered Edward's betrayal. He wished they could leave in their separate ways as friends. Seeing Edward filled with hatred towards him, Nicolas felt like he lost something precious: a friendship with the most complex, intelligent man he had ever met in his life. Flamel couldn't just walk away like this.

He turned to Ed and looked him directly in the eye while he spoke:

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, I really am. But I promise you, after I cure the person I need to, I'll return and give the Stone back. I guess you're right, it doesn't really belong to me, but I need it. I'm really sorry."

Ed opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off before he said the first word.

A huge explosion blew off a big part of the wall, blue electric light erupted and sent rubble and dust everywhere. One big chunk of concrete hit Nicolas and set him flying a few feet. Alphonse Elric stepped through the entrance he just created.

"Al!"

Alphonse's gaze swapped from the fallen wizard and the blinding white light to tied up Ed. He hesitated for a split second, uncertain what he should do first. Unfortunately, this delay was all Nicolas needed. Flamel stood up and sprinted towards the portal, grabbing his wand from the floor on his way.

"Don't follow me, Ed!" He shouted behind his shoulder for the last time and run through the white hole.

Ed cursed, struggling against the ropes. They didn't even budge. They must have been some sort of special ropes, he suspected, after all this magic business was doing all sorts of incredible, bizarre things.

Al quickly stepped closer and with a clap of his hands, he transmuted the ropes into dust. Ed shook some of it from his clothes but it didn't help much: he was completely covered in powdered concrete and the rope remains.

Then, before the brothers had time to say anything, the portal started closing. For Ed, it was like seeing in slow motion. For a moment the entire world stopped while he watched the mysterious portal, that vaguely reminded him of the Gate, shrinking from four-feet diameter to three-feet. He had barely any time to think, but there was one thing clear in his head.

Nicolas, no matter how good his moronic intentions were, was going to bring doom to his country along with the Stone, one way or the other. Such diabolic creation such as the Philosopher's Stone couldn't be handled without consequences. He and Al knew that better than others. Flamel was making a grave mistake, even if he was convinced he was "doing the right thing". England wasn't Edward's country, hell, he had nothing to do with it and didn't want to, but if he didn't act now, horrible things could happen to that place and its inhabitants. Ed understood clearly that behind that portal was England and he might not be able to come back if he did something impulsive… but, he didn't have any choice. Edward was too selfless for his own good. And he thought it was only Flamel's and Al's problem.

Without visible hesitation, he raced forward and dived into the whiteness. And Alphonse, his loyal brother, trusting him more than anything else, jumped in right after him without a second thought.

The portal closed behind them and vanished without a trace.

* * *

Nobody was there to witness the hell that was released from the portal which opened mere seconds later.

A stream of souls, screaming and wailing from centuries of pain, poured out of a hole in the air. Red, liquid-like fog of death dissolved in the air, the sound slowly fading and being replaced by silence. The tortured spirits returned to their home at long last, and passed through the Gate to join their loved ones in the afterlife.

The third portal appeared for a mere second. Souls flew out, but silent and calm, unlike the ones before. Before the void closed, a small object fell out and landed on the floor with a quiet 'thud'. An old-looking, handwritten book with a thick brown cover.

* * *

When the signal they expected never came, the soldiers rushed into the building with their weapons out. They investigated, but beside a blasted wall, they found nothing, just like every time before. But there was one difference from their previous unsuccessful attempts of apprehending the Philosopher's Stone's thief.

The Elric brothers were gone as well.

"What happened?" Mustang demanded an answer from the investigation team. "Where are they?"

The soldiers looked at each other helplessly. The rubble was the only evidence the scene. They dug through, hoping to find anything. Heymans Breda, the officer in charge, was the one to find the book.

"What's that?" He asked, picking up the book gently. He read the title on the cover and frowned. "General, sir?"

Roy turned to him immediately. "What did you find, Lieutenant?"

First Lieutenant Breda handed it to his commanding officer. There was a puzzled look on his face. Mustang read the title aloud with utter bewilderment.

"...' _Pyromaniac's Guide to Camping'…_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> The ending might be incredibly confusing for you. Well, good! It's supposed to be xD But you can still guess what is the meaning of the book, just for fun. Put your guesses in the reviews.
> 
> Fun fact: you can see the sun medallion in the picture for the story, behind letter "C" in the word "Alchemist". The medallion was also present in the picture I made before I posting chapter 1 - solid proof that I know what I'm doing. I have a plan, hurray! Expect greatness xD
> 
> But, to be honest, the reason I haven't posted this chapter immediately was because I was quite unhappy with it. I tried really hard, but I imagined the confrontation between Edward and Nicolas a little more… epic. With more fighting and stuff. However, there was a problem. No matter what scenario I put them in, when it came to combat, Ed ALWAYS wins. Nick is just no match for him. That's why there wasn't much fighting. I'm sorry for that. I'm planning to make fighting scenes in the future and I'll make sure they're exciting.
> 
> Here, we end the backstory (finally!) and head to Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, where two alchemist prodigies will meet Professor Dumbledore and the rest of the staff. It's going to be interesting, to say the least… :) We all know that those first impressions are the best part of the crossovers.


	5. There's always a Price to Pay

Without visible hesitation, Edward raced forward and dived into the whiteness. And Alphonse, his loyal brother, trusting him more than anything else, jumped in right after him without a second thought.

* * *

Everybody knew that Alphonse Elric would follow his brother to the depths of hell.

It may sound overly dramatic, but it was true, and had been proven repetitively. Just like Ed, who'd gladly die for him, Alphonse would sacrifice anything for his older brother. On the Promised Day, Al gave up his own _soul_ to save Ed from the evil clutches of Father. And in turn, Edward traded what many people wrongly believed to be most special about him – his alchemy, to bring Al home safely, his body and soul. It should go without saying that Al would follow Edward to the depths of hell, because both brothers had already done that for each other, _literally_.

He was lucky he got there before it was too late. He'd been waiting for his brother's signal, but when nothing but silence was coming after a while, Al began to worry. Finally, he made a decision to step in, as he felt air flowing inside the building: a sign that something bad was going on. And he was right. Ed was tied up, and there was a dangerous-looking white void floating in the air, next to Nicolas Flamel. Unfortunately, Al's late reaction due to surprise caused the criminal to escape.

When Alphonse saw his brother running through the glowing hole, chasing after Nicolas, Al did the only natural thing: follow without hesitation. He didn't know where they were going, he didn't know if it was safe ( _knowing Brother,_ _probably_ _not_ ), he didn't know if there was a way for them to get back later. But none of that mattered. He promised Winry he would make sure Edward got back home safely. Not to mention, he'd never forgive himself if he let anything happen to Ed.

So why, Al asked himself with exasperation, why was his stupid brother reprimanding him for it?

"AL! What the hell are you doing here?! Why did you follow me, _what were you thinking?!_ "

Those were the words that greeted him after he regained his consciousness. Someone grabbed him under the arms and lifted him up to the sitting position. When the blurriness went away, the first thing Alp saw was Ed's familiar face, with a very worried and irritated expression on it.

"You shouldn't have come after me! Did you even think about how dangerous that was?" Edward yelled.

Al stood up and leaned forward, glaring into Ed's angry golden eyes with his own, equally fiery.

"Well, did _you_ , Brother?! What were **you** thinking, jumping into that white hole like that? And you dare lecture _me_ about being reckless?"

"Look, I had no choice!" Ed exclaimed, waving his hands. "Nicolas was getting away with the Stone! I was right after him! You didn't have to come along!" Al clenched his fists and lashed out:

"Brother, you idiot! You really expect me just to sit and wait for you to get back? If it was me, wouldn't you run after me too?"

"Of course I would, but that's different! I'm the older brother, and I'm supposed to protect you!"

 _ **Argh**_ , same old argument. He was seriously getting tired of it. Al ostentatiously rolled his eyes.

"Don't pull the 'older brother responsibility card' now, Ed! There's no way I was going to let you go after Flamel to Truth knows where, all on your own!"

"But what if we can't get back?"

" _I don't care!_ As long as we're together, we'll figure something out!"

Ed rubbed his forehead and sighed with resignation. There was no point arguing about it now. It's not like Edward could send his younger brother back. The white void seemed to be gone, and they where stuck here… wherever this place was. Al only now could look around to see where they had landed.

It wasn't the Pink Rose hotel, that much was clear. They were in a large, circular room, which had some sort of unique beauty to it. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindlelegged tables, pushed against the walls, which were covered with ancient-looking portraits of old people in strange clothes and hats. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, where sat an exotic bird. The pet had an intelligent spark in its eyes, and was looking at Al with curiosity. In other situation, Al would love to come closer and touch the shiny warm-colored feathers. On a shelf behind the desk, he noticed a shabby, tattered hat. The only reason it caught his eye was because it looked extremely out of place. Al had no idea why would anybody keep such an antiquated thing in display like that.

At last, Al realized there was a third person in the room. He was a very, _very_ old-looking man, with a long silver beard and half moons glasses sitting on his crooked nose. He must had had it broken at least twice, Al thought. He was watching both of them with curiosity in his twinkling blue eyes. In his right hand, he tightly held a wooden stick, which Alphonse recognized from Ed's description as one of those 'wands'. So, he was another 'England-ian', he concluded. Al couldn't help but look bemused at the elder man's choice of clothes. He was wearing a ridiculously purple robe with silver star pattern on it, and an equally absurd-looking pointy hat on his head.

The man spoke to him in a kind voice, confusing Al with an unfamiliar language. Which was probably English. Edward seemed to understand it though because he immediately replied. But there was a strange expression on Ed's face as he did. After blinking two times, he suddenly burst into laughter.

"Uh, Brother…? What did he say? Why are you laughing?"

Ed, after he calmed himself – the old man seemed to be amused as well – said something in English that included their names, and Al understood that an introduction just occurred. Alphonse nodded politely, but was ignored as Edward and the old man kept talking. Al tried to figure out what they were saying, and caught the name 'Nicolas' in the conversation. _Maybe he can help us_ _find him_ , Al thought as he patiently waited for them to finish.

The conclusion didn't seem to satisfy Ed, because he cursed in Amestrian and looked down for something to kick with his metal leg. But as his eyes focused on the floor, he stopped and face fell in shocked recognition.

Alphonse looked down as well and nearly stumbled when he realized what they were standing on. Their feet were inside a complex transmutation circle. It contained a various geometric figures, including a pentagon. Al knew only one circle that required a pentagon as the main base…

He crouched to take a closer look. A sick feeling grew in his stomach as he read the symbols. The chalk-drawn pattern was not entirely familiar, but still very similar to the Philosopher's Stone array.

"Hey, Al..."

He turned to Ed, who was inspecting something in the middle of the circle. Al came closer and saw some red shards laying there. While he'd never seen something like those, he had a good guess what they were – or rather, what they were supposed to be.

"Brother…?" Al looked at Edward and they silently agreed. This seemed like a failed attempt at creating a Philosopher's Stone.

They simultaneously turned and glared at the elder man approaching them. The way he showed no surprise or interest towards the circle suggested that not only did he know about it, but was also responsible for it. Al could barely stop the urge to shout at the man and demand an explanation as to why would he do such a thing or how he had found out about it.

Edward's sentiments weren't much different, but unlike Al, he didn't bother himself with holding back. He stood up, yelling at the man and pointing at the circle, voicing their mutual opinion. But Al thought he was taking it a little too far when Ed grabbed the old man's robe and pushed him against the wall.

"Brother, stop! That's enough!"

Much to Alphonse's relief, Ed didn't punch, just glared into the bearded man's eyes. There was a moment of tense silence, before the old man spoke with a calm, gentle voice. Whatever he said seemed to work, because Ed relaxed and even backed away.

Al took a second look at the shards, contemplating. They looked different than an incomplete Philosopher's Stone he and Brother saw in possession of Dr. Marcoh. They were red, but their color was sort of dull, not the crimson it was supposed to be. He carefully gently all of them up to examine them. They appeared to be pieces of a whole, like something had shattered. But, that would mean…

He walked to Ed and said:

"Something's off here. It doesn't look like a Philosopher's Stone was created here. There's no blood on the circle, either."

Ed frowned thoughtfully, then jerked and asked something in English with a stunned expression. Al wished his brother started translating things to him soon, so he could participate in the conversation. The other two exchanged a couple of words more and Ed stared at the bearded man for a moment.

"Brother, what happened? What did he say?"

Ed he turned to Al with conflicting emotions written on his face.

"Al, he said that… he destroyed the Philosopher's Stone. This must be the array he used for it. It was probably the Stone Nicolas has stolen."

Al mulled over the implications of that statement. In a way, this was tragic. All the souls that had been trapped inside the Stone must have been killed in the process, and that would be… how many, several dozens? Several hundreds of people? True, they were convicts, sentenced to death for their crimes, but for the Elric brothers, every life had its value. Now, those people were truly dead. On the other hand, they didn't have to suffer anymore. Al and Ed heard enough from their father, Hohenheim, to know that souls imprisoned inside the Philosopher's Stone were in permanent state of unrest. Hopefully, they could be free at last.

Also, this meant that the last Philosopher's Stone from Amestris was… gone. It was over. It was really over.

Al exhaled the air he hadn't known he was holding. _Finally. Our mission is done._

While Alphonse was overwhelmed with relief, Ed continued his discussion with the person responsible for solving their problem. But Ed didn't seem happy. He questioned the old man with a suspicious and doubtful expression, folding his arms and shooting one question after another. He was probably inquiring as to why the old man did this or how he accomplished it. Al was trying to guess what was being seeing just from their faces. At first the bearded elder was acting cool, then became confused, then started looking unsettled.

"You think we should tell him the truth?" Ed asked Al suddenly, seeking his opinion. Alphonse didn't need to ask what exactly his brother meant: this stranger seemed involved into their case too much to hide it from him. Al nodded and Ed said something with a very serious, heavy tone.

The words shocked the old man so much that he held his breath and paled to the point that his beard was almost the same color as his cheeks. _Poor old man_ , Al thought with sympathy, _Brother is always so blunt with the truth_.

He wondered if he should offer the bearded man some comfort, before he'd get a heart attack. His voice shook when he asked the next question, however Ed was being sensitive for once. He responded with a quiet and understanding tone. Alphonse remembered how they reacted when they decoded Dr. Marcoh's research notes. They had been shaken very badly. But Ed seemed to be doing a pretty well with calming the other down. Al chose to stay silent and watch how things would go from there.

Ed suddenly snorted and said something with an almost amused expression. The elder's jaw dropped.

 _Well, good job with_ _ **not**_ _shocking him into a heart attack, Brother!_ Al thought sarcastically as Ed laughed at the man, probably mocking his dumbfounded reaction.

Then, Edward started looking around with interest and bafflement in his eyes. He probably hadn't paid much attention to the room so far. _Of course,_ _because_ _it_ _'_ _s Brother,_ _with_ _his_ _typical_ _obliviousness to the most obvious_ _of_ _things._ He asked a question in English and for once, Al had no doubt what it meant.

_Where are we?_

Al wanted to know that too. He had already scrutinized the room, but there was something off that he only know started noticing. It didn't have anything to do with the appearance of the chamber (although it was pretty odd, in more than one way), but its aura. Alphonse studied alkahestry and consequently, the Dragon Pulse, for a couple of years now. He didn't depend on his newly developed sense of reading the chi of earth all the time, though. He only used it when the situation called for it. But now that he paid attention, there was a lot of chi flowing in this place. It was everywhere: in the air, in the ground and in the objects. It felt stronger in several of them. But the most powerful source of chi he detected, was the pet bird, sitting innocently on the desk. He practically radiated with chi. But it wasn't an unpleasant, disgusting feeling, expected from a Philosopher's Stone or a Homunculus. It was as if the bird emitted warm energy, slowly spreading around like waves on the lake…

Now Al wanted to pet that bird even more.

* * *

"Ugh... Where are we anyway, old man?"

Edward was baffled by the equipment of the room. It almost looked like some old-fashioned science lab. Several silver instruments on the desk were emitting puffs of smoke, making him curious what was being boiled inside, because it sure didn't look like normal vapor.

He knew he should expect strange things from now on, because…

"We're in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

...yeah. That.

"It is in England, right?" He asked for clarification.

"Indeed." Double Door nodded. As expected, they ended up in Flamel's country.

Wait a second… a school. Nicolas mentioned something about attending a school a couple of times.

"Are there four Houses here? Ravenclaw, Griffindor, Slytherin and Plufflehuff?"

"Yes, this is the one. We are the only school of magic in Great Britain."

That sounded familiar as well. They were definitely in the place Nicolas had described to be his home. Now, all they needed to do was find the guy, arrest him, and force to send them back to Amestris. The question was how to do it. Flamel could be anywhere by now…

This thought cause Ed to halt for a second. _By now_. He and Al jumped through that portal (he assumed it was a portal) just a few moments ago. But how much time passed in between? In the Gate, he had a pretty decent sense of time. Here, he didn't feel like the trip took more than a couple of seconds, but some things didn't add up. Double Door had enough time to talk to Nicolas, draw a complicated transmutation circle on the floor, and destroy the Stone. That couldn't be just a few seconds. Also, Flamel had been right ahead, but they haven't seen him after exiting the portal. Which meant, he must have gotten here a good while before them.

"You seem to know about Hogwarts, but I'm certain I have not seen you two before." The old man interrupted his musings. "What country did you come from?"

"Amestris…" Ed replied absentmindedly, looking at his brother. Alphonse seemed to be mesmerized by a bird sitting on nearby desk. _Al and his obsession with_ _animals_ _,_ he thought.

Suddenly Al looked away from the exotic creature and locked his golden eyes with Ed's. There was an unspoken question there. Now it occurred to Ed how out of place Alphonse must feel. At least Edward could speak English and knew some things about England, but Al didn't know where they were or what was going on. His younger brother previously assured him that he didn't care, but Ed knew it didn't make the situation any better. It was his fault that Al was stuck here with him. He needed to figure out a way home soon, even if it meant letting Flamel go without punishment. Al was always Edward's priority.

Ed searched his brain for anything that could help his little brother in this extremely confusing situation. Suddenly, he remembered something.

Dumbledore was asking him a question, but Ed didn't hear it. Instead, he focused on the stick in the man's hand. It didn't escape his notice, from the moment he woke up in this room, that the old man was armed – a wand was a weapon, no matter which way you looked at it. But that wasn't what Ed was thinking about.

"Hey, Double Door. That thing, your wand. It works, right?" he asked just to make sure.

The man with the longest beard Ed had ever seen, blinked with surprise.

"Yes, it does. Are you a wizard, Mr. Elric?"

"Yeah, you can say that. I need to borrow it for something."

Before the man could answer, Ed snatched the stick from his hand an examined it. It looked almost the same as Flamel's wand, but it was darker in color. Probably ash wood, or elder. Ed didn't know if the wood made any difference so he just shrugged, thinking: _I guess it's as good as any other_.

Ignoring Dumbledore's hilariously flabbergasted expression, he turned to Alphonse and said in Amestrian:

"Hey, Al, when we did research together, Nicolas told me about a neat trick. Don't freak out, okay?"

Al looked at him suspiciously.

"Brother, what are you going to do?"

"Just trust me, Al." Ed pointed the wand at him and stated carefully with a flick: " _A_ _uribus aureum._ "

Alphonse felt like a wave of hot air brushed over his body from top to bottom. He involuntary shivered at the unfamiliar sensation.

"What was that?"

"A translation spell." Ed said simply, handing the wand back to shocked Dumbledore.

"That's some very advanced magic, young man!" The Professor said, looking at him as if he were his favorite student. Ed inwardly grimaced. He didn't like being addressed like an inexperienced kid, yet he got that treatment way too often. Well, usually _before_ he introduced himself, that is. "Where did you learn it?"

"Nicolas did tell me about it," Ed replied in his distorted English. "I never did try it before. Did it work, Al? Do you understand him?"

Al was switching his stunned look between the Professor and his brother.

"What worked? Brother, what did you do? Sir, you speak Amestrian?"

"No, your brother casted a spell that allows you to understand me, Mr. Elric," Albus Dumbledore explained to Alphonse, but he kept his impressed eyes on Ed. "You mean this was your first try? And you managed it with a wand that doesn't even belong to you?"

"I do not have a wand." Ed said with an indifferent shrug. Nicolas hadn't told him much about Wand-lore. Edward didn't know yet that wizards usually could only use wands that had chosen them.

"Oooh, I remember!" Al suddenly exclaimed. "You said Mr. Flamel could instantly translate languages!"

"He did mention mention how to say it. I only did guessing."

Al cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

"Brother, why are you talking so funny?"

"I talk in English!" Ed huffed, crossing his arms. "I do the best I can! I only did learn a little bit, and I did not use it for years! I want to hear YOU try to talk it, if you want to make fun of me!"

"I can cast the spell on you as well," Dumbledore offered, but Ed declined sharply:

"No, thank you. I do not want that. I only did it for Al because he cannot talk English like me. I did not learn English not to use it."

"My apologies, I just wanted to make it easier for you."

"Easier is not always better, you know."

The Headmaster looked at the blond quizzically. He didn't expect this kind of wisdom from such a young man. He didn't press further though, because he could tell that Edward was stubborn. He was one of those types that once he set his mind on something, he wouldn't change it no matter what.

"You said you two are from Amestris?" The Professor asked, slipping the silver strands of his beard between fingers. He peered with curiously at the Elric brothers through his glasses. "Forgive me, but I've never heard of it."

"I am not surprised..." Ed murmured, shooting Al a glance. "Nicolas did mention that our countries are very far away from each other."

"Please tell me, Mr. Edward Elric," Dumbledore said politely but urgently "How do you know Nicolas Flamel?"

"We did meet a couple of times..."

"Nicolas used to be Brother's researched partner." Al butted in. Ed looked at him with a quiet warning: _Careful, Al. Let's not say too much._

"Research partner?" The Professor echoed, although he supposed he shouldn't be that surprised. The blond just performed a very difficult spell that he only heard about, and he seemed incredibly intelligent. Not to mention his knowledge about the Philosopher's Stone and alchemy, the extremely rare, nearly dead art. Albus made a mental note to never underestimate the Elrics. "What kind of research did you two do?"

Ed waved his hand. "Alchemy. Magic. Many things."

"He wanted to invent a cure for a certain illness," Al started, pausing for Ed's approval. When the older brother nodded, the younger continued: "Mr. Flamel looked through many books from the libraries in Amestris, but he couldn't find what he was looking for, so he asked Brother for help. In exchange, he shared his knowledge from England with him."

"After that, we did go our separate ways…" Ed took over. "I did not see him for a long time, I thought he did go to another country. But he did not. We did hear that he did take something that was not his..."

"...The Philosopher's Stone." Al finished for him.

"The Stone is very dangerous. It should not be in wrong hands. Hell, it should not exist at all."

"We chased after Mr. Flamel, to convince him to give the Stone back, before somebody got hurt..."

"...stupid kid did not listen..."

"...he must have used the 'magic' technique, to open a portal of some kind, in order to get back to England. We followed..."

"...and now here we are."

At first, when Dumbledore started listening to their story, he was slightly confused. But as they went on, his confusion changed to dread. This sounded like… oh no. It couldn't be…

Ed noticed the strange expression that appeared on his face and asked:

"Old man, how much time was it since Nicolas did get back? You did destroy the Stone, so you did have time to do it. When did you see Nicolas the last time?"

Both blondes looked at him expectantly. Dumbledore didn't respond immediately, because he was too overwhelmed with the revelation. These poor boys… they had no idea…

Suddenly, Dumbledore felt anger. In fact, the Headmaster was furious. Furious with what Nicolas had done. As if stealing a Philosopher's Stone – a Philosopher's Stone! - wasn't enough, he had betrayed the trust of his friends, claimed to be the genius creator of an artifact that was not only made by _someone else_ , but _evil_ … And now, _**this**_. The hard grip on his wand was slowly becoming painful.

In that moment, Albus knew what he was going to do. He was going to find Flamel and force the truth out of him. And after that, the ancient wizards would make amends to the Elrics. What he had done to them, what he took from them, _it_ _was unthinkable_.

Some people might have been surprised, how quickly Dumbledore believed two foreign strangers over his old friend. But he had a couple of good reasons. First, Albus had a lot of experience with young people, even the most cunning ones like Tom Riddle. But, he saw nothing but truth in the brothers' faces. Especially the younger one, Alphonse, had such an honest expression in his warm, golden eyes that it was impossible to accuse him of telling lies. Second, they didn't have any reasons for deceiving him. There was absolutely nothing they could gain by making up a story like this... except for finding Flamel, but why would they want that if they were lying? They didn't want the Philosopher's Stone for themselves. That much was clear from their reactions, when they were told it had been destroyed. Another argument for their truthfulness, was how unaware they were of their current situation. They came from another country, only one could speak English, and they didn't know who Dumbledore was. The Headmaster wasn't a vain wizard, but he knew that the only people who hadn't heard of him were Muggles – which, as the elder brother just proved, they were not.

No, Edward and Alphonse weren't the deceivers – they were the victims. The one true deceiver in this mess was Nicolas Flamel. And he was going to pay.

But first, Dumbledore needed to respond to Edward's question. The young man was still waiting for an answer. Maybe Albus could delay the moment when the horrible truth crushes the boys. First, he needed to find Nicolas. He didn't want to become the next deceiver, but it was for the best.

"When I saw him yesterday, it was our first meeting in a long time," the Professor said carefully. "He left today."

Ed relaxed, hearing the reply. For a moment there he was really scared. When the old wizard fell silent with that unsettling blank expression on his face, a terrible thought crossed Ed's mind. What if instead of just lost minutes, or hours, they had spent _weeks_ or _months_ getting from one side of the portal to the other? What if years passed since they left Amestris, and they hadn't even noticed?

Heh, no way. That's ridiculous! Man, the stress was really getting to him to be thinking things like that.

"Two days?" Al said intrigued. "I don't remember so much time passing in the Gate."

"That wasn't the Gate, Al..." Ed told him in Amestrian, intentionally leaving Dumbledore out of the loop. "That portal must have been something entirely different. Beside the fact that I don't even _have_ a Gate to pass through anymore... We didn't see Truth, we didn't gain any knowledge, and we didn't pay the passage fee." Ed unconsciously rubbed his right, now flesh, wrist.

"I see… Magic ignores the Equivalent Exchange." Al nodded. The bearded Professor looked at him curiously.

"Hmm, unless we counted those two days as payment…"

"No, it wouldn't make sense. Mr. Flamel didn't lose time like we did. But why?"

"Maybe he had something we didn't. Maybe because he had the Philosopher's Stone with him… or perhaps, it was that golden medallion…"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"When he opened the portal, was holding that golden medallion with something engraved on it. It almost looked like a transmutation circle..."

"You think that it protected him somehow?"

"I don't know. It's possible."

"But it could also have something to do with us entering at the same time..."

"Yeah, you're right, maybe there were side effects because it was meant only for one passenger..."

Dumbledore watched the fast exchange with amusement. He only understood half of the conversation, but it was still fascinating to watch. Despite obvious differences in their appearance and attitude, for a moment they seemed identical. The brothers were practically finishing each other thoughts just like twins. While the Elrics were engrossed in their discussion, Albus decided it was about time he left to fetch Flamel.

"Hey, old man! Where are you going?" Ed called after him as he reached the door.

"I'm going to find Nicolas and bring him here," Dumbledore explained, giving the boys a warm smile. "In the meantime, make yourselves at home. I'm going to send a teacher to take you to your rooms."

"Our rooms?" Al repeated.

"It's almost midnight. You'll have to stay for the night."

"Why you say you would send a teacher?" Ed frowned. "We are not kids."

"Of course not," Dumbledore replied with mirth. "But as you already know, Hogwarts is a school, and I'm the Headmaster. The teacher will show you around and make sure you won't get lost.

"Thank you very much, Mr..." Al paused.

"Dumbledore. Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

Ed put a hand to his mouth to muffle a snicker, but a snort escaped through his nose. Alphonse, despite the fact that his own eyes widened in surprise, elbowed him and hissed:

"Brother! It's not nice making fun of people's names!" But even Dumbledore could see Al's lip twitching.

"S-sorry, Al, but…" Ed started giggling. "I can't help it!"

"Please forgive my brother's rudeness, Professor Dumbledore."

"Oh, no, I'm not offended. Well, I must be off. Wait here, someone will come for you soon."

"Thank you, Professor."

However, after Dumbledore closed the door to his office behind him, he could still hear both brothers laughing their heads off.

* * *

Professor Minerva McGonagall didn't know what she had expected. When the Headmaster suddenly called in the middle of the night, and told her they had visitors from outside the country, she probably imagined some sort of ambassadors, like the Ministry's officials. Or other professional-looking figures, of the likes of usual Dumbledore's acquaintances.

...That was not what she got.

When she climbed the stairs and approached the office doors, she heard loud screams coming from the inside. She frowned with confusion, and swiftly entered with her typical, rigid attitude. She stopped in the entrance, baffled.

Instead of adult **men** she was told to show around, she saw two **boys** , both looking around eighteen or nineteen years old. One of them was currently having a shouting match with a portrait on the wall, while the other stared at it with incredulity.

 _This is going to be a long night_ , she thought with weariness.

"How are you alive?! Is your soul bound to the portrait?!" Exclaimed a golden-haired boy with a ponytail.

"How rude!" The portrait shot him a dirty look.

"Did magic do this to you? Or alchemy? Do you have a blood seal?"

"How **dare** you speak to the Headmaster of Hogwarts! I am Phineas Nigellus Black, one of the-"

"Does everybody have ridiculous names in this place…? Never mind. What did happen to your body? Did you lose it because of an accident, or were you separated from it by force?"

"How do you even move?! You're a painting!" The other boy, with shorter hair, finally broke out of his stupor.

" **Muggles?!** In Hogwarts! What a _disgrace-_!"

"What is a 'Muggle'?"

"Do you control the pigments of the paint on the canvas? Is that how you appear to have a face?"

"Excuse me, I **do** have a face, whatever it is you're insinuating!"

"How many others like you are there?"

"How many senses do you have in this form? Can you feel or smell?"

"Can you move, like, beside your face in the painting? Do you possess awareness of the three dimensions while you're flat like that?"

"What payment-"

"Would you be _quiet_!? People are trying to **sleep** here!" Shouted another portrait and the other Headmasters joined the complains, causing the room to be flooded with yelling.

Poor Professor McGonagall put a hand to her forehead. She could feel a migraine coming already.

"E-hem!" She couched loudly, causing everybody to shut up and look at her.

The boys immediately stood straight when their eyes lied on her. Unknown to Minerva, she reminded them of _another teacher_ , and they knew there could be no messing with her. She looked with approval at their respectful attitudes.

"Good evening. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, the transfiguration Professor."

"Nice to meet you, Professor." The boy with short hair bowed, much to her surprise, in an asian-like manner. "My name is Alphonse Elric. And this is my older brother, Edward Elric."

Edward just nodded, making McGonagall believe that he wasn't as courteous as his brother. She looked at him sternly. The long-haired boy gulped.

"Uh- I mean- It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor McGonagall!" He said quickly with a thick accent, grinning nervously. Much better. Her expression softened.

"Please, follow me." She turned and the boys obliged. They went down the stairs, passed the gargoyle and started walking through a long corridor.

"How big is this place?" Ed asked, twisting his head around with amazement. "It looks old."

"It's fairly large. The Hogwarts Castle has been built one thousand years ago," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Woooah!" Alphonse seemed very excited. "Our country didn't even exist a thousand years ago! That's amazing!"

"How many students do you have?" Ed asked with mild curiosity. He remembered that according to Dumbledore, this was the only school of magic in Great Britain. With the number of students, it'd be easy to estimate the overall population of wizards on the island.

"Around three hundred*."

"Huh, three to four thousands… That's not much..."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you did say you have three hundreds from all over England. That's about five to ten years of a generation. If we assume that most wizards do not skip school, and you live long lives, that would mean there is around three or four thousands of you. For a country, that is not much."

McGonagall stopped to look at him with surprise.

"You calculated that in just a second?"

Ed merely shrugged.

"You referred to wizards as to 'three or found thousands of you'. I understand that means you two are Muggles?"

"That's what that… _painting_ called us," Al recalled, still extremely baffled that _the painting_ _could move and talk_. Even being an empty armor once, Alphonse thought it was bizarre. "What's a 'Muggle'?"

"A Muggle is a non-magical person."

"Someone who can't perform the magic technique?"

"That's correct."

"In that case, Brother is not a Muggle. He can use magic."

"You can?" The Professor was slightly surprised. At first, she was shocked to discover that the Headmaster's guests were Muggle teenagers, judging from their reactions. Why would Dumbledore bring Muggles to Hogwarts? Wasn't that against the Statue of Secrecy? But now, it seemed that she'd assumed wrong. Maybe those two were recently discovered wizards? Perhaps that was the reason for them coming to Hogwarts.

"Yeah," Ed confirmed. "I am sure Al could too, but he did not try yet."

"I suppose so… It sounds easy enough." Al said.

"So you are wizards, but you never learned magic?" She asked curiously.

"There is no one to teach it where we are from" Ed explained. "I did meet only one person like you before. He did tell me some things, but he never did explain how magic works."

"Well," Minerva continued walking. "It is quite simple. Witches and wizards are born with the ability of magic. After they get their wands, they can learn to perform spells-"

"I know that." Edward interrupted impatiently. "But where the energy comes from? What do you exchange for objects to fly or ink in books to disappear? Or other strange things that magic can do?"

"Like alive paintings?" Al added, sharing a look with his brother. They knew very well what kind of price was required to bound a soul with alchemy. They sincerely hoped it wasn't the same with magic. They didn't want to imagine the number of limbs lost, just to fill one room with living portraits.

"I did ask him many times, but he could never explain. You are a teacher, so you should know, right?"

McGonagall sighed. This was so typical for Muggle-borns, demanding explanations for spells as if they were cheap circus tricks.

"If it helps you, imagine that the energy comes from you. The power of a spell depends on the wizard and the quality of his wand. To succeed, he needs to know the formula and be powerful enough for the kind of magic he tries to cast. That is all."

Al stared at her with disbelief. "But-"

"You are a Professor and _you do n_ _o_ _t know_?" Edward was aghast. For an authorized researcher like himself, this was unacceptable. "How can you teach children if you do not know the subject?!"

"Mr. Elric, I can assure you that I'm qualified and perfectly capable of teaching our students." She glared at him. Edward glared back with a stubborn fire in his golden eyes… Minerva had to admit that those eyes were quite fascinating. "Magic is a difficult and mysterious subject, and many wise wizards before you tried to find an answer to those questions. However, what matters is that we understand what it does, and what are the its consequences, for the safety of everyone. That is what the students learn in our school."

"...you mean you teach about how to shoot, but not about the gun itself..." Ed mumbled. "...that's ridiculous."

"Forgive me, Professor, but I have to agree with Brother," Alphonse said respectfully, albeit disapprovingly. "How can you be sure it's safe if you don't know how it works? Isn't that irresponsible?"

"Wizards have used magic for generations. We know very well what is safe and what is not." Minerva responded. "For example..."

She drew a wand from her pocket. Both brothers instinctively flinched backwards, standing in defensive positions. The Professor ignored their reactions and pointed the wand at herself. The Elrics watched with fear and shock, as the woman transformed into a grey cat in front of their eyes.

Al let out a frightened squeal. Ed rushed forward, shouting in horror:

" **What have you done?!** Professor, are you-!"

Before he could finish, she was human again. She stood before them with a calm expression, like turning into a feline was something she did as a daily routine. Ed was frozen in spot, with his hand still reaching out.

"Are you alright?!" Alphonse breathed out, his eyes searching her frantically. Being a scientist who studied chimeras for the last few years, he was unconsciously looking for any abnormalities. Any parts of her body could have retained animal features, such as ears, whiskers or a tail. Luckily, everything seemed in the right place.

"I assure you I'm completely fine." She said in a placating manner. "Only skilled wizards and witches can perform such transfiguration on themselves safely. You see, we teach students of the dangers that come with magic. In my class, I always emphasize that a failed transfiguration can have dire consequences."

"Trans-fi-gu-ra-tion?" Al repeated the word that didn't exist in Amestrian vocabulary, thus couldn't be translated. "Is that what you call what you just did?"

"Yes. I am an Animagus, which means, I become a cat with my mind intact. If someone else turns another into animal, they don't keep their human consciousness. They only regain it after they're changed back."

"Can you change into… anything?" Ed asked, dropping his hand. There was some unsettlement in his voice.

"No. An Animagus can only have one form. I cannot turn into anything beside a cat. Other wizards have other forms, for example, an owl, a fox, or a dog."

"Oh." McGonagall noticed extreme relief on his face, but she didn't question it.

"Can you… make yourself look like someone else?" Alphonse traded an anxious glance with Ed. Seeing someone shape-shift, they couldn't help but think of Envy.

"There's potion that can to that. It's quite difficult, but not impossible."

A serious expression appeared on Edward's face.

"You could do a lot of illegal things with an ability like that."

Minerva nodded, knowing that he wasn't referring specifically to herself.

"Sadly, that's very true… That is why the Ministry of Magic keeps a record of all who attempt this kind of magic. Every Animagus must be registered."

"But what if they hide it? What if they do not tell anyone what they can do?"

"Then they risk a life-sentence in Azkaban."

Ed frowned, not understanding the sentence with his limited English. Al, equally confused, inquired:

"What's Azkaban?"

"A prison for witches and wizards." McGonagall's expression turned grim. "It's a terrible place, a fate worse than death. Nobody in their right mind would risk getting sent there."

 _Fate worse than death, huh…_ Ed thought. He knew something about that. "By the 'Ministry'… did you mean the government?"

"Yes."

"What is your government like? Who is the ruler?"

"Well, the head of the British Ministry of Magic is Minister Cornelius Fudge, if that's what you're asking about. He's not exactly what you call a ruler, though. He was chosen with votes by the wizards and witches in our country. He has power, but he's limited by the Wizengamot, and International Confederation of Wizards..."

They kept walking as she explained the politics in England and some of the rules of the Wizarding World. Ed was about to ask about the regulations regarding those who cannot use magic – 'Muggles', as they called them – when he suddenly realized that Al was no longer with them.

"Al…?" He looked around. Professor McGonagall stopped. "Where did he go?"

"Mr. Alphonse Elric?" McGonagall said, but there was no answer.

The two looked at each other and rushed back the way they came from.

 _What is he thinking,_ _running_ _off by himself…!_ Ed thought with irritation and a bit of fear.

"Don't worry, Mr. Elric, we'll find him," she said, but was nervous herself. Letting someone with no experience with magic wander around Hogwarts was definitely **not** a good idea. There were plenty of things here that could scare the life out of him, like that cursed Poltergeist, Peeves. They better find Alphonse quickly.

They passed three corridors before they stumbled across him. Ed thought he was going to collapse. Al was in an empty hallway, cradling a cat in his arms with a smile on his face. Ed felt a mixed surge of relief and anger.

" _Al!_ "

Alphonse lifted his head. The flush of embarrassment on his face made the adult seem even younger than people usually assumed he was.

"Sorry, Brother, I didn't mean to lose you, I just-"

"You can't just waltz off like that!" Ed exclaimed in Amestrian. "We have no idea what kind of dangers to expect here! What if something happened to you?"

"Brother-"

"And _of course_ it had to be a _cat_!" Ed rubbed his face with a groan. "Drop it now, Al."

Professor McGonagall joined them and stared at Alphonse with wide eyes. Was that Mrs. Norris? She had never, _ever_ seen the cat letting anybody pet it beside Filch, let alone hold it. Yet here she was, purring in the younger Elric's arms with content.

Al looked at the cat with a pitiable pout.

"But Brother, it's lost..."

"We don't have time for this. Drop the cat and let's go."

"We can't just leave it here all on its own!"

"Al, the cat most likely has an owner, and it's probably is somebody in this school, I'm sure it's going to be fine."

"But-"

"Professor," Ed switched to English. "This cat belongs to one of the students, right?"

"This is… the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris..." Minerva said slowly, eyeing Al suspiciously as if he was a snake charmer.

"You see? Now, let the cat go."

Kneeling, Al gently put Mrs. Norris on the floor and gave her the last ear-scratch.

"Bye, Mrs. Norris" he whispered affectionally and the scrawny feline nuzzled his hand. McGonagall felt her chin hit the floor.

"Come on, Al," Edward stomped his foot twice impatiently. "Time to go."

Al, after letting out a sigh of disappointment, stood up. He looked at Ed and opened his mouth. Then he noticed something behind his shoulder. Al screamed, even more freaked out than when they saw Professor McGonagall transform.

Ed turned on his heel immediately and froze. He stared with a pale face like he had seen a ghost.

Maybe because it was exactly what he saw.

A few feet away from them, a pearly-white, slightly transparent figure floated in the air. The person appeared to be a man with long, curly hair, a mustache and goatee. He was dressed in tights, a pair of breeches and a tunic. There was also an extravagant plumed hat on his head. If he wasn't a _freaking ghost_ , Ed might have laughed at his outfit. It was even more ridiculous than Dumbledore's robe.

"Well well well, who do we have here? I don't believe I've seen you around before." The _ghost_ came closer, looking at them with a smile. "Are those two new students, Professor? Kind of late to join, don't you think? The school year ends in two weeks!"

"You- you- you-" Al stuttered, lost for words. Ed grew even paler.

"They are not students." McGonagall responded.

"Oh-ho! Who are they then?"

"They're guests from overseas. This is Mr. Edward Elric, and this is Mr. Alphonse Elric."

"Really? Brothers? Splendid!" The figure exclaimed with enthusiasm. "Welcome to Hogwarts!"

"You are a… ghost." Ed uttered with a rough whisper. He hadn't blinked since he saw the figure, as if he thought it'd disappear if he did.

"Indeed! My name is Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington! A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Elric, and Mr. Elric!"

"Y-you mean… You're… dead?" Al asked, his voice shocked but quiet.

"Why, yes!" Nicholas said carelessly like he was talking about the weather. "I've been dead for nearly four hundred years."

"Then how are you here?" Edward hissed with hostility that surprised the teacher and the ghost "How are you _still here_? You are _dead_ , are you not?"

"What's wrong, Mr. Elric?" The ghost, also known as Nearly Headless Nick, asked, puzzled. He faced many reactions from people who'd never seen a ghost before: fear, amazement, sadness. But never anger. Why was the boy angry at him for being a ghost?

"What did you to to evade death?" Ed's voice was low, accusing and full of rage. "Your soul is still here, right? Why did you not pass the Gate?"

Nearly Headless Nick paused, staring at Ed with surprise for a moment.

"How do you know about that?" He said slowly.

"We did see it. Me and Al. And we know that to go back, you need to pay a toll." Ed scrutinized him with a look that made the ghost uneasy. "What did you give?"

Those unsettling, golden eyes were burning into his soul. He could not look away, even though he wanted to. For the first in a long time, Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington left exposed. How did the boy know? Nobody who returned from seeing _**it**_ ever talked about it. It was an unspoken rule among ghosts. In some rare cases, they shared their reasons behind becoming this way with the living as a warning, for all ghost regretted it, one way or another. But never in detail, never about _**it**_. Yet, Edward Elric, the boy with piercing molten-gold eyes, knew. He claimed he'd seen _**it**_ , that _they_ had seen _**it**_. Nicholas unconsciously turned to Alphonse Elric to see his questioning, but free of judgement expression. Yes, he must have seen it too. It was clearly written in those fearless eyes, the testimony of that terrifying encounter. Nobody who'd seen _**it**_ could ever be the same again, no matter how well they concealed it. Those two knew… He could not tell them what he had given up, in his cowardliness of death. He could not admit how in fear of the afterlife, he decided to give it up for eternity, just to get this imitation of life in return. Where they had been tested and passed, he had failed. He could not admit to them his failure. He simply couldn't.

Nicholas let his gaze fall on the floor, then silently, he slipped through the wall, leaving the Elrics behind with the unanswered question.

Ed clenched his fists and looked at Alphonse.

"I'm convinced now." His words, spoken in Amestrian, were quiet and solemn. "Magic is not free of Equivalent Exchange. There is always a price. I don't know what it is yet, but even wizards must pay for everything they get."

"I was thinking the same thing, Brother." Al said with the same tone, nodding.

Professor McGonagall, not knowing what Edward just said, only peered with silent curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> Sorry for a shorter chapter, but I had to split. There was no way I'd upload 14,000 words in one go. Even for me it's too much. I'd keep each chapter between 6,000 to 12,000 words at most.
> 
> Did anybody notice the irony when Ed took Dumbledore's wand? For those who have bad memory, Albus Dumbledore's wand is the Elder Wand. You know, the most powerful wand in the world. Yeah. Ed just used the Elder Wand. And he's not impressed. XD
> 
> (No, Ed isn't the master of the Elder Wand now, don't get any ideas. He took the wand from Dumbledore's hand, but not with the intention of keeping it, so it didn't count. If that was enough, it would mean handing a wand to anyone was automatically making the person its new owner, and that's just stupid.)
> 
> * - You're probably surprised, right? Expected more? Well, it's official information. According to the books, Harry's year had only 10 Griffindors, and assuming this is an average number for every House, (10 students) x (7 years of attendance) x (4 Houses) = 280 students. It's stretching to even say ~300. It matches the calculations I made about the ratio of wizards to Muggles in the middle-ages: about 1:1000, and it's even lower in the 20th century. (I DID MY RESEARCH! :D) It also shows how ignorant wizards are, in my opinion. Ignoring Muggles and thinking that they're the most important community in the world, when there is so little of them.
> 
> Haha, Voldemort is really pathetic, when you think about it. He's got, what, 50 followers in total? Not counting the Giants and spiders and Dementors in the last book. And he wants to take over the world, and get rid of 5,000,000,000 Muggles on the planet…? (Human population by the end of the millennium) Yeah, good luck with that. Maybe you'll be done by the end of 22th century. If your 'immortality' works well enough to not leave you crippled with age by that time, that is. I swear, the 'ignorant defenseless Muggles' could have just nuked Britain out of annoyance to destroy the Horcruxes, and the problem would be over. Why did Voldemort leave all of his Horcruxes in one country, anyway? That pretty stupid. If I were him, I'd leave one in the bottom of the Mariana Trench, the other on Mount Everest, another on the Moon, one more set into Space and the rest I'd keep in my wallet. Seriously.
> 
> As usual, I complain about the plot-holes too much. So, instead of pointless ranting, how about I start fixing them? With a little effort, all is possible.
> 
> From now on, every new chapter will have an "Author's Note" section called "Filling plot-holes and explaining the unexplained". Each time I'll introduce three things (characters, objects, events or rules) from HP universe that either were undeveloped or didn't make sense. And I'll try so set them right (keeping in mind that this is a crossover), with logic, alchemy, rules and everything. Sounds fun? :)
> 
> Oooh, but the best part is: I want you guys to help me with it! Put questions or suggestions in the review section and I'll pick the most interesting ones.
> 
> For the first "Filling plot-holes and explaining the unexplained" entry, I'll pick:
> 
> 1\. Unicorn Blood's Curse
> 
> 2\. Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest
> 
> 3\. The Sorting Hat
> 
> Thank you very much everybody! Look forward to the next chapter, it's going to be awesome! ;) Read on and enjoy!


	6. Books for Breakfast

"Magic is not free of Equivalent Exchange. There is always a price. I don't know what it is yet, but even wizards must pay for everything they get."

"I was thinking the same thing, Brother."

* * *

Only after they reached their chamber, Ed noted how they hadn't encountered a single electronic device yet. At first, he thought that torches in the corridors were just a decoration. But when it turned out there wasn't even a lamp in their room, he started to suspect that wizards hadn't discovered electricity at all. It was really strange, considering that with their abilities, they could create any necessary parts with practically no effort. But wizards didn't seem very interested in science, from what Professor McGonagall had told them. _What_ _a shame_ , Ed thought with disappointment. With combining technology and magic, the possibilities would have been endless.

Although their chamber appeared old-fashioned, it was certainly comfortable. The fireplace was burning merrily, emitting pleasant warm. There were, thank goodness, no talking pictures on the walls, but ordinary tapestries with floral ornaments. Two single beds were set up on the opposite sides, like the decorator wasn't sure if their owners would stand any sort of proximity. The room seemed to be intended just for one person, to be honest. There was only one red desk with a matching chair, carpet of the same color and a small bookcase. On the wooden desk rested a silver plate full of sandwiches, along with a pitcher filled with something that looked like carrot juice – not that Ed cared. As long as it wasn't milk, it was all good with him.

The Professor wished them goodnight and promised to come for them in the morning at breakfast.

"While I don't want to discourage you, I'd be better if you didn't wander around on your own," McGonagall told them, looking at Al meaningfully. "It's easy to get lost in the castle, and I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble. There are quite a few surprises here and there, just so I warn you."

"Thank you, Professor, we will remember that," Ed responded, also giving his brother a pointed glance. Al blushed and hung his head down. "What kind of 'surprises' should we be aware of, just in case?"

"Well, there are over one hundred and forty staircases in Hogwarts, and some of them switch directions on certain occasions, for example fridays," she said seriously, ignoring the incredulous faces of the Elrics. "There's a trick step, on the second the before last staircase leading to the dungeons, you have to jump over it or your leg might get stuck in it. Some doors don't go anywhere, and some disappear after you go through them, making it impossible to go back the same way you came. Most corridors are safe, but there is this nasty creature, Peeves, who loves to play pranks. He's a not exactly a ghost, but he can startle you by jumping out of nowhere and shouting, so you better watch out for him. There are also some secret passages here and there, you may stumble across them. But beside that, there's nothing really dangerous in Hogwarts. After all, this is a school for children."

"Y-yeah… right..." Al said weakly.

"Ugh… thanks for telling us…?" Ed had the same uncertain expression. They were both thinking the same thing:

 _Secret passages? Fake doors? What kind of place is this? And w_ _ho the he_ _ck_ _makes a castle with one hundred and forty staircases?!_

The Professor nodded and left, closing the door behind her silently. It was surprising how quietly she could do that, considering that the door was more like an eight-feet-tall metal gate. Maybe it had some sort of spell on it, who knows.

The brothers let go of their breaths simultaneously and looked at each other.

"I hope we're not going to die of boredom locked up in here," Ed remarked, sitting on the nearest bed. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep. It might be the middle of the night here, but it was morning when he confronted Nicolas back in Amestris. This time difference is going to be one heck of a pain for adjusting, for however long we'll have to stay here."

"Yeah..." Al said absentmindedly. Ed looked at him with concern.

"Al, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He shook his head and turned to Ed with a smile. Somehow, Ed felt it had to be fake. "This place is quite fascinating, you know? It's so much different from what I expected England to be. I thought it'd be like Xing, but it feels sort of… ancient. Like a museum."

Ed frowned, and a pang of guilt stabbed him. Al was trying to appear cheerful for him, but he knew what he must have been truly thinking.

"Al, no matter what happens, I swear I'll get us home. Alright?"

"Of course," Al said lightly and sat next to him. "I told you, as long as we're together, we're going to figure it out."

"I know. But... it's my fault we're stuck here in the first place." Ed's eyes fell to his lap. He bit his lip. "Maybe I shouldn't have jumped after Flamel. And, you wouldn't be in this mess if I hadn't called you to come to Central, either."

Alphonse looked at his brother intently. He knew this, he recognized the tone and the words. It was the intro for Edward Elric's infamous 'This-is-all-my-fault-and-I-need-to-fix-it' game. Ed had a talent to blame himself for things that he had no power over.

Al scowled. He didn't want to play the old 'guilt game' _ever_ again. Hadn't his brother suffered enough? Hadn't he sacrificed enough?

"Brother, stop this right now." He ordered harshly, making Ed flinch and look up in surprise. "We were on a mission, chasing a criminal with a dangerous weapon. It's not you're fault. You did what you had to, and so did I."

"But-"

"No buts, Ed!" Al was almost shouting. "I don't want to hear this! Will you ever let me take some of the responsibility? You didn't tell me to go after you, I did that myself, it was my decision. I'm not exactly blameless here. I was supposed to be your back up and I failed. But we are not going to be placing guilt now, or ever. I've had enough of this!"

Ed was staring at him with conflicting emotions visible in his features. Al knew that a part of him wanted to accept the comforting message of those words. But his self-loathing tendencies were stopping him from letting go of his guilt.

"Al..."

Alphonse's expression softened, seeing that he was successful in getting his point across. He released the air from his lounges along with his frustration. Then he gave his brother a loving smile.

"Brother, it's okay." He reached for Ed's right hand and clasped his finder it, lifting it up in their common high-five-like gesture. "We'll figure it out, and we'll be back home before you know it." He vaguely remembered he said the same thing to Winry. "I don't blame you for anything. And I'm not sorry to be here with you. I'm glad. After all," he added with a joking tone "you're practically helpless without me."

Ed, after a moment of hesitation, finally gave in. He leaned forward and embraced the other in a hug. Edward didn't want to admit it even to himself, but he was happy Al came with him too. He wouldn't want to go through all of this craziness alone. Just like he said in Central city, he couldn't do this on his own, not without Alphonse.

"Thanks, Al." He murmured into his younger brother's ear. "But still… I'm going to find a way for us to get back, soon. Promise."

Al nodded and tightened his grip around him. In the end, he could never stop Ed from taking all of the responsibility. It was too deep in his brother's nature, to shoulder all the burdens for him, no matter how hard Al insisted they ought to share them. But, he could still be there for him, support him to the best of his abilities as a younger brother. He could help Ed get through this, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Because, as long as they were together, there was nothing the two of them couldn't handle.

* * *

" _Argh_! I don't get it!" Ed growled in frustration, slamming the book shut. "There is too much words here I don't understand! What's a 'portkey'? What does 'travel by Floo' mean, is that just a synonym for 'fast'? What is 'Quidditch'? And what the heck brooms have to do with transportation?!"

"Brother, calm down."

"Easy for _you_ to say! I'm supposed to be the language expert here! But there's so many terms Nicolas has never mentioned to me, and this is just the first page! I can barely keep up!"

"At least you _can read_ English, even if only a bit!" Al said, looking at the book in front of him pitifully. "The translation spell doesn't work with written language. I don't understand anything that's said here."

They tried to study to pass time, but all the books in their room were written in English wizarding-slang, making it close to impossible. There wasn't even a single book in their bookcase about alchemy, or any science for that matter. They scanned it three times, but nothing sounded even remotely familiar.

Finally giving up on the book titled 'Wizardry Ways of Wandering the World', Ed reached to the left pocket of his trench coat. He pulled out his alchemical journal.

"At least I have this..." he said, scribbling notes with his right hand. He made sure to practice writing with both of hands regularly. In the last five years he relearned how to be right-handed, but he didn't want to lose the ability of using his left. Being ambidextrous had a lot of benefits. "Good thing I always keep it with me."

Al looked over his shoulder curiously.

"...'interesting art-style, but I don't necessarily approve'..." he read aloud. "For once, I have an idea what you're trying to code here. But I don't see anything mentioning magic."

"Of course not. If anybody from Amestris found out about this, it would be a disaster." Ed frowned, stopping for a moment. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe it's a good thing our countries were never in contact before. This magic business seems dangerous and could be easily turned into another weapon, just like alchemy. Perhaps even worse."

Alphonse tapped his chin with a finger, pondering.

"I don't know… I think any new invention brings risks with it. But that never stopped progress, right? When people want to hurt each other, they'll find a way, it doesn't matter what tool they use. Still, I think magic could help a lot of people."

Ed thought for a moment with an unreadable expression. "Once when we were talking, I told Nicolas how stupid wizards are for hiding from the rest of the world, instead of trying to make peace with it," he said. "But I was saying about the same thing right now, about England and Amestris. Huh. I'm such a hypocrite."

"Like I said, every discovery causes new problems to arise." Al put a hand on his shoulder. "It shouldn't discourage us from taking steps forward, and helping those around us. Remember our reformed principal of Equivalent Exchange, Brother?"

Ed looked at him and nodded.

"When you give ten, and add one from yourself..." he started.

"...then eleven is returned," finished Al, and they grinned at each other.

"You're right, Al. We should research magic more thoroughly." Ed put away his journal and opened 'Wizardry Ways of Wandering the World' again. "Maybe we can come up with something useful. Perhaps it'll get us home faster."

"Let's start with decoding these books." Al proposed, pointing at another two tomes, which titles suggested that they were related to magical traveling. At least, that's what Brother told him. Al wished to learn English soon, because it was starting to irritate him. "We broke Dr. Marcoh's code. How hard can a couple of measly books be?"

* * *

When Minerva knocked on the door in the morning and entered, she was greeted with quite a sight. Both Elrics were sitting on the floor, surrounded by notes and books. Some were opened at random pages, the rest were stacked in piles and separated in categories, although she had no idea what system they used. The brothers hadn't noticed her entrance until she cleared her throat loudly. They looked at her in confusion, like they hadn't expected her visit.

"Good morning, Mr. Elric, and uh… Mr. Elric." she said, doing her best to hide her disapproval of the mess. "Did you sleep well?"

"Nope." Ed replied, flipping a page.

"Oh." His bluntness made her speechless for a moment. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"We didn't sleep." Ed explained indifferently. It caused McGonagall to blink in surprise. "We decided to do some reading. These books are quite interesting, once you get the idea behind them."

She glanced around once more. That was some dedication to studying, she thought.

"You haven't read all of those books, have you?"

"Not all of them. Just about two thirds." Ed informed her, ignoring her bewilderment. "It was a bit rough in the beginning. But once we translated the therms related to magic, we could understand the topic. Al is starting to learn some English. We still do not understand everything, though."

McGonagall noticed with shock how significantly Edward's spoken English improved overnight. His accent wasn't any better, but he spoke more fluently, and used more words at a time, and learned the past tense. Perhaps he was only warming up yesterday. Either way, she had to admit that his progress was truly impressive.

"Well, seeing that you're already dressed..." She hesitated. Much to her embarrassment, she forgot to tell the Elves yesterday to prepare clean clothes for the guests. But Minerva didn't want them to skip breakfast (especially if they haven't slept all night, what were those boys thinking?!), she could see their plate was untouched. In this situation... There was no choice, hygiene wasn't as important for health as basic nutriment. "I'll be taking you to the Great Hall now. You can shower and change clothes afterwards."

Al scratched his cheek sheepishly. "Uh, we don't have any spare clothes..."

"Don't worry, the robes will be provided for you."

"Robes?" Ed grimaced. "There is no way I am wearing robes."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Elric," Professor McGonagall said with a final tone "but we have nothing else available for you and robes are considered standard clothing in Hogwarts."

"Of course, Professor, we don't mind." Al said quickly before his brother could respond. Ed sent him a glare.

"Very well then. Follow me, please."

As they followed the McGonagall to the Great Hall, Ed was still acting grumpy. The image of him wearing a silly robe like Dumbledore's plagued his mind. He whispered to Al sourly:

"I'm not wearing any robes. It's not gonna happen."

Al rolled his eyes. "Brother…"

"No."

"You have to respect the cultural differences!"

"I said no."

"I'm not cleaning your stuff with alchemy."

Ed looked at him with disappointment. "But-!"

"No." Alphonse shook his head with an unyielding expression.

Ed glared at him for a bit longer as they walked. The other stared back stubbornly. Edward narrowed his eyes. Alphonse did the same. Ed pressed his lips in a tight line. Al raised his eyebrow. Minerva pretended she wasn't watching their contest with highest interest.

Finally, Edward admitted defeat with an exaggerated groan.

"...Fine."

The younger Elric smiled. The older pouted, wondering why he could never win against his little brother. Al laughed inwardly at his childish expression, then turned to see the Professor watching at them. She quickly looked away but Al caught a thin smirk on her face. Maybe she wasn't as uptight as she led everyone to believe…

They arrived to the Great Hall at last, and now the brothers could see why it was called that way. The two stopped in the entrance, gaping.

The ceiling – at least they thought it was a ceiling, there was no way to be sure – looked like clouded blue sky with orange remains of the dawn, making the clouds glitter like a rainbow. There were four long tables laid with golden plates and goblets and each had different decorative colors: green and silver, blue and bronze, yellow and black, red and gold. At the top of the hall was another table where apparently the teachers were sitting, because they were the only adults present. The Great Hall was enormous and could easily fit a thousand students instead of just three hundred.

Al was the first one to regain his composure. He turned to Ed and giggled.

"You should see your face, Brother!"

Ed blinked and looked at him, swiftly hiding his awe behind bickering.

"You were staring just like me, you know!"

They hurried behind McGonagall to the teacher's table. The students who weren't busy eating or talking with their friends gawked as they passed them. Ed wasn't surprised with their reactions, but it made him think. Were they staring at them because of their features, like golden hair and eyes (which were unusual even in Amestris) or because of their clothes? Maybe it was a good thing he agreed to wearing robes later on. He grew indifferent to the attention of the crowds over the years, but that didn't mean he wished to attract it. They were on a mission, after all.

"What is the meaning of this, Professor?"

Ed saw a man with pale skin and dark, greasy hair approaching. His black robe fluttered after him, giving him an appearance of an over-sized bat. He was scrutinizing the two of them with an unfriendly glare. Edward idly wondered if the wizard had ever heard of shampoo.

Professor McGonagall, whom the question was directed to, said stiffly to the Elrics:

"Mr. Elric, and Mr. Elric. Allow me to introduce our potions Professor, Professor Severus Snape. Professor, this is Mr. Edward Elric and Mr. Alphonse Elric."

"Nice to meet you, Professor Snape." Al waved with an innocent smile.

"Good morning, Professor." Ed decided to be polite for once, even if the man was not intimidating him in the slightest. This guy was nothing compared to Teacher. But Ed didn't want to start the day with a fight with a Professor, just because the guy was looking at them as if they were criminals.

Professor Snape didn't respond immediately. He regarded them a bit longer, before drawling suspiciously:

"Why haven't the Headmaster informed us about our charming… visitors?"

"Their arrival was on a very short notice. Professor Dumbledore left tonight due to some urgent business which he did not explain to me." Minerva told him. Ed and Al both made a sigh of relief in their heads. It was good to hear that Dumbledore did not blabber about their predicament to everyone. "He asked to take care of these guests from Hungary during his absence and show them our _utmost_ hospitality."

 _'Hungary'…? Where is that?_ Ed thought, puzzled, but hid his bewilderment pretty well. Al quickly caught on too, judging from his guarded expression.

Snape, not losing any of the suspicion in his dark eyes, snarled to the Elrics in greeting:

"Charmed."

Ed only raised an eyebrow. What was this guy's problem?

As they sat at the table between Severus and Minerva, Edward spoke.

"If you don't mind me asking… Why is everybody so tense?"

Al noticed it too. Despite the expected gossip and commotion in the Great Hall, it was easy to tell that people were unsettled. The faces of students lacked the usual children-like cheer and were way too serious. He asked quietly: "Is it because of us?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Elric, it has nothing to do with you two." McGonagall quickly assured him. "You see, there had been an… incident… a couple of days ago." She cleared her throat. "As a result… one of the teachers… left us."

"Did somebody lose their job?" Al asked delicately.

She didn't respond. Understanding dawned on Ed as he watched her grave expression.

"Did somebody..." he hesitated. "Somebody died, am I right?"

Al gasped and covered his mouth with a hand. After a moment of silence, Professor nodded.

"I'm afraid so."

The brothers exchanged grim looks. Was it because of the Philosopher's Stone? Knowing their luck, probably.

"How did it happen?" Al inquired quietly.

"Please do not concern yourself with it, Mr. Elric. I assure you that everything is under control now. The teacher who… the person was not who he claimed he was." There was a dark look on McGonagall's face. "He brought this fate upon himself, as cold as it may sound."

While Al was surprised to hear such harsh words from her, Ed already had an idea about what happened and why that teacher's death wasn't mourned.

"Was he killed in a fight?"

McGonagall stiffed.

"We're sorry, Professor." Al said quickly in an apologetic tone. "If it's an uncomfortable subject, we won't ask about it anymore."

"I just wanted to avoid making you two feel… nervous." She explained wearily. "You must believe me when I say that those things _do not_ happen at Hogwarts on regular basis. This is the first time somebody from the staff died in over twenty years, and the last Professor died due to his old age, not an accident. Quirinus Quirrell, the wizard who passed away last week, was put in the position of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor only this year. We didn't know that he could not be trusted."

Ed nodded, not surprised in the slightest. "I see… So he was a traitor in your ranks."

"We're sorry you had to go through this, Professor McGonagall… you and everybody else." Al consoled sincerely.

"Please, it's quite alright. I'm sure everybody is going to get over it soon."

They continued eating. Their conversation with Professor McGonagall made them so distracted they didn't really pay attention to what they were eating. Ed absentmindedly poured himself a cup of juice and took a sip. His spectacular spit-take caught everybody's attention.

" _What_ is this stuff?" He asked, looking at the liquid with disgust. He'd thought it was supposed to be carrot flavor!

"It's pumpkin juice."

"Pumpkin?!" he turned to McGonagall with disbelief. "You mean that orange vegetable? And you make _juice_ out of it?"

Al drank some of his own cup and made a strange face.

"It's not… that… bad..." he said out of pure courtesy, Ed could tell he didn't like it either.

"Maybe it takes a little getting used to," the transfiguration Professor said apologetically.

Ed grumbled and poured himself water to get rid of the nasty taste from his mouth.

"Are you students from Durmstrang, Mr. Elric and… Mr. Elric?" Snape suddenly spoke, looking at them with a seemingly indifferent expression.

"We are _not_ students." Ed snapped. "I am twenty one years old. Alphonse is twenty. We are not _kids_."

All the teachers who heard it had surprise written over their faces. Even Professor Snape was a little taken aback. The Elrics looked just like teenagers.

"We have not finished any school." Al offered an explanation to him. "We were privately taught by a tutor."

"We are researchers."

"Really?" Snape said dubiously. "You look awfully young to be twenty one. Are you sure you're not _stretching_ your age?"

Ed was about to leap from his chair to strangle him before Al put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down," he told him sternly, then turned to the Potions master: "Professor Snape, Brother is telling the truth about our ages. Although we were told on several occasions that we appear younger than we really are."

"...everybody treating me like I'm a freaking kid, I'm a married man for crying out loud…!" Ed was muttering to himself in Amestrian, furious that his little brother didn't let him lash out on the annoying Professor.

"Brother, _behave_!" Al whispered, scolding.

Ed resumed eating, still in a foul mood. He knew he was overreacting, he was just stressed out and tired. It'd be probably evening in Amestris by now. Not to mention that they were stuck in an unfamiliar environment, surrounded by ghosts, confusing staircases, strange food, weird clothes and Truth know what other things were hidden in this castle. Frankly, Edward just missed home and his wife. He wanted to see Winry again.

He put down his fork and looked at McGonagall.

"Professor, since this is a school, I suppose you have a library here?"

"Of course," she confirmed.

"Would it be alright if me and Al went there after breakfast? I'm eager to learn more about this place." _And to find a way back_ , he added in his head.

"I'll take you there and introduce you to Madam Pince, the librarian."

Ed made a noncommittal sound and grabbed his fork again.

Professor Snape was putting much effort into ignoring the blond next to him, but as Alphonse kept glancing in his direction every five seconds, he was slowly losing patience. Finally, he sighed with irritation.

"What is it, _Mr. Elric_?"

"Oh, sorry about that, Professor," Al flushed, realizing his rudeness. "I was just thinking… You said you teach potions, right?"

Severus grunted in response. "Yes."

"Brother and I read a book about potions last night."

Snape deadpanned at him.

"What of it?"

"It's very fascinating," Al said with an enthusiastic glimmer in his golden eyes. "I would love to learn more about it. The way the ingredients are being put together and work with each other reminds me of alchemy a lot."

"Alchemy?"

"Yes, the stages of Understanding and Reconstruction, mostly. Unlike spell, you have to know what exactly you put inside the mixture and how it's going to affect the whole. It seems like an amazing art."

Snape couldn't tell if the young man was honestly eager to learn more about his beloved subject, or was simply trying to get on his good side. He decided to remain impassive.

"You don't say."

"Are you an alchemist too, Professor?"

"Of course not..." Severus scoffed, then stopped when he realized that Alphonse used 'too' in the sentence. "Are _you_ an alchemist, Mr. Elric?"

"Naturally!" Al beamed at him. "And an alkahestrist, as well. Brother knows more in the field of alchemy than I do, to be honest, but we both studied it since we were children."

"Really?" Somehow Snape found it hard to believe. "I was under the impression that alchemy was a nearly dead art."

"Dead art?!" Ed gasped indignantly as his ear caught the topic of their conversation. "What is _wrong_ with this country?!"

"Alchemy isn't rare where we come from." Al was puzzled. "How many alchemists are there in England?"

"I know only of two." Snape responded.

"Who?"

"The Headmaster, and Nicolas Flamel."

Ed couldn't help but frown slightly as he heard the name of his old 'friend'. He attempted to smooth his features and said offhandedly:

"Well, congratulations, now you know four." He wasn't sure if he should have counted himself. Technically, he wasn't an alchemist anymore. But it was knowledge that counted, right?

The Potions master looked at them skeptically.

"So you claim to be alchemists?"

"Yup!" Al confirmed, oblivious to his disbelief.

"Then why don't you give us a little… demonstration?" Severus challenged, not really serious about it. There was no way kids like them would be able to pull off some alchemy on his request, he thought. He never studied it himself, but from what he'd heard, it was one of the most complicated branches of magic out there and not just anybody could learn it. There was a lot more to it than waving a wand. Just like with potions, not that anybody appreciated it. Nicolas Flamel was the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone for a reason.

Much to his surprise, Edward Elric grinned like a Cheshire cat and said:

"No problem, Professor! Actually, I had a great idea for a transmutation for a while now."

Snape watched with a lifted eyebrow as Ed pulled out a pen from his pocket and started drawing a circle on his napkin. Al smiled with amusement, seeing the pattern he was drawing.

"Really, Brother?"

"Why not? We agree on this, don't we?"

Al shook his head, making Professor Snape curious what Edward was about to do.

Ed finished in less than thirty seconds, but the array he drew was impressive with how complicated it was. The blond gave the napkin to his brother and said nonchalantly:

"Al, will you do the honor?"

"Of course, Brother." There was subtle mirth in Al's voice.

The younger Elric filled another cup with pumpkin juice, put it on the napkin and pressed his fingers to the circle.

Conversations quieted and heads turned when electric blue light erupted from the teachers' table. There was a moment of silence.

Snape and the rest of the staff stared with wide-eyed amazement as Al completed the flashy transmutation and handed the cup to Edward.

"Well, what do you think?"

Ed took a sip of the liquid and smiled.

"Orange juice. Good choice, Al."

"H-how did you do that?" McGonagall stuttered, looking between the blonds and the array on the napkin.

"Simple transmutation," Ed explained, ignoring that the entire Great Hall was gawking at them. "I could explain it, but I do not know English well enough. Al?"

"I decomposed the aroma compounds in the pumpkin juice into orange juice aroma and transmuted citric acid to add the right flavor, along with fructose and a couple of other sugar compounds to change the aftertaste, but overall chemical makeup is exactly the same as it was before." Al looked at the cup. "I hope I didn't make it too sour, Brother."

"Oh no, it's perfect." Ed smirked. "I was thinking carrot juice, but it's much better. Thanks Al."

"You're welcome, Brother."

Seeing that Professor Snape was still looking at them skeptically, Ed handed the cup to the Potions master.

"Try it if you do not believe it."

Snape narrowed his eyes, then sniffed the light yellow-orange colored liquid. He blinked.

"This… this really is orange juice..." he admitted, surprised. There were spells that could change one liquid into something else, like vinegar into wine, but he'd never heard about turning pumpkin juice into orange.

"You want some? Al can make more for you if you want."

The Professor didn't say anything and returned the cup to Edward.

"That was amazing, Mr. Elric!" The brothers turned to another Professor sitting next to Snape. He was possibly the shortest person Ed had ever seen (he couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction at the thought) and currently jumping with excitement. "I have never seen wand-less magic being performed by somebody your age! You must be an extremely talented wizard."

Al smiled modestly and shook his head.

"Oh, that wasn't magic, Professor..."

"Flitwick, Professor Filius Flitwick, Mr. Elric."

"...Professor Flitwick. Magic and alchemy are two different techniques. You don't use wands in alchemy."

"You could say that the circle acts instead of a wand," Ed explained, handing Flitwick the napkin he used for the transmutation array. "To do an alchemical reaction, you need a proper circle, and you need to understand what substances you are working with. When you do, you follow to Reconstruction and Deconstruction. Which is, like Al said, a little similar to potions."

"You take materials apart and them put them back together in a different order," Al finished. "But you can't make something out of nothing, according to the rule of Equivalent Exchange."

Filius Flitwick was examining the drawn circle with fascination. The other Professors were also looking with great interest, while some students were stretching their necks to get a better view of what was going on at the teachers table.

"Well, I'm done." Ed put his dishes away and stood up. "Can we go to the library now?"

"Brother, don't be rude," Al reminded him yet again. "we need to wait for Professor McGonagall to finish her breakfast."

"It's alright Mr…. Elric, I'm already done."

Ed suppressed an amused chuckle at her constant problem with distinguishing the two of them, while addressing with their last name. He decided to put an end to the Professor's misery once and for all.

"How about this, Professor McGonagall: let's drop the 'Mr.' part and call me 'Edward', and you can call Al, 'Alphonse'. It sounds official enough when you use our real first names, instead of nicknames. Or, if you insist, you can add our last name to it. It is going to make things easier for all of us."

McGonagall had to think about it for a moment and Ed wondered if she was going to decline. But eventually, she nodded:

"Very well, _Edward_. Since you are the Headmaster's acquaintances, I suppose a little familiarity wouldn't hurt." She gave him a thin smile that made Ed realize that they had earn a bit of respect from her. For what, he didn't know. "Shall we go the library?"

"Yes, thank you, Professor."

"Please, call me 'Minerva'."

A wide grin spread on his face.

"Alright then, Minerva."

* * *

He was starting to think that Hogwarts was intentionally designed to be a labyrinth.

Even with Ed's brilliant memory, he could barely keep up with remembering all the staircases and corridors they had to pass in order to get to the library. It didn't help that they almost lost Al again.

"Al. _Drop_. _That_. _Cat_!"

"I was just saying hello to Mrs. Norris!"

"Al, seriously…!"

Before this could become a full-blown argument, rugged voice interrupted them:

"What is going on here?"

The brothers turned and saw a wheezing man approaching them. His face was wrinkled and pouchy, cheeks sunken and his pale eyes were bulging from his skull. The old man walked with hunched-shoulders. He had thin grey hair and wore a brown coat, which intrigued Ed in spite his generally revolting appearance – he was the first person in this castle who didn't wear any robes.

"What are you doing with Mrs. Norris?" he said accusingly, pointing at the purring cat in Al's arms.

Alphonse looked at him with innocent confusion.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to-"

The old man snarled, "What are you playing at? _What did you do to her?!_ "

"W-what do you mean?"

"You must have done something to her!" The man shouted, his face reddening in anger. "She wouldn't sit paralyzed with fear in your evil clutches otherwise!"

Al sputtered. Ed snickered at his brother's dumbfounded expression.

"But I-"

"I warned ya, Al."

"Release Mrs. Norris this instance, you brat!" the man spat, his spit flying in the air.

Alphonse slowly obeyed, speechless. The feline calmly sat on the floor and started licking its paw, looking anything but 'paralyzed with fear'. The caretaker (Ed remembered Mrs. Norris' owner occupation thanks to McGonagall) scooped the cat in his hands and murmured to it:

"It's alright, my sweet, you're safe now, I won't let any of those brats hurt you..."

He walked away, still talking to the cat, while Mrs. Norris kept her glowing eyes on Al until the two disappeared from sight.

Only now McGonagall caught up with the Elrics.

"Oh there you are Alphonse!" she exclaimed in relief. She took notice of his expression and asked with concern: "Did something happen? Is everything alright?"

"Absolutely." Ed smirked mockingly at his little brother. "We just had a nice little chat with the caretaker."

"But- but- but-" Al was at loss of words. "But I didn't do anything!"

"Well, too bad, Al. You better stay away from that cat or the guy is going to murder you."

"I apologize for Mr. Filch's behavior," Minerva said the name with mild exasperation. "He's a bit sensitive when it comes to Mrs. Norris. He treats her like his own family."

"More like his own wife," Ed chuckled. "Seriously, who names a cat 'Mrs. Norris'? I get the 'Norris' part, but what is up with the 'Mrs.'? Eh, whatever. Let's go, Al."

Al followed Edward and McGonagall to the library, sulking a bit in hurt disappointment.

The library was, without a doubt, gigantic. Ed and Al had been to countless libraries in Amestris, some even larger than this one, but this was something else. There were thousands of shelves so tall not even Armstrong could reach them. Just like the rest of Hogwarts, it looked like an ancient labyrinth. The brothers made a quiet ' _Woooow…!_ ' sound as they looked around.

"My first class today starts in half an hour, so I'll have to leave you here for now," the transfiguration Professor told them, smiling with approval at the hunger for knowledge visible in their eyes. "If you need anything, tell Madam Pince and she'll help you. Enjoy yourselves."

"Oh, we will!" they assured her and eagerly dived into it. Al was first to grab a book from the closest shelf and opened it.

"Hey! Those books are parchment too! I thought only the ones in our room were like that. I bet some of them are older than Xerxes!"

"Al, check this out: 'Invisibility section'. You think you can really make yourself invisible with magic?"

"Oooh, they have more books on potions here! I really need to learn English, Brother, I want to study some of the recipes. It might be useful in alchemy."

"They have a whole section about _dragons_?! What the hell?"

"Aha! Look at this, Brother!"

"What did you find, Al?"

"See the symbol on the cover?"

"An alchemy book? Score!"

"What does it say?"

"It says: 'Alchemy through the Ages'. Hmm, let's see..."

Ed started flipping the pages, but his enthusiastic attitude slowly vanished as he absorbed the contents of the book.

"Eh, sorry, Al." He shook his head. "I'm afraid this is mostly rubbish.

"You sure, Brother?"

"According to this book alchemy is a branch of magic. And I don't see Equivalent Exchange mentioned even once. What a waste of time."

"Maybe there's something useful here, like about combining magic and alchemy. That's what we're looking for, right?"

"I don't know, there isn't much here about alchemy itself, this is more like a history record... Transmuting metals into gold as one of its greatest achievements, what a laugh… That Snape guy was right, no wonder the only alchemists he knew were-"

He abruptly stopped, his eyes glued to the text. For a few seconds he didn't move a muscle. He didn't even breathe.

"Huh? What is it?" Al asked, confused why Ed cut himself in mid-sentence like this.

The book slipped through Edward's fingers and landed on the floor with a loud 'THUD!'.

"Brother? _Brother!_ What's wrong?!"

At this moment, Ed couldn't hear anything around him. We wasn't aware that his brother was desperately calling for him. He forgot about the world around him. The only thing filling his mind was the sentence he just read:

" _...the invention of the Philosopher's Stone by Nicolas Flamel, the oldest wizard alive, over six hundred years ago..."_

* * *

Professor Dumbledore cursed himself. What he was going to do? How he was going to tell them?

Minerva told him she had left the Elrics in the library, so he hurried there immediately. He reasoned with himself. No matter how they were going to react, he _had_ to tell them. It was bad enough he avoided it back in the office. It was impossible to hide it from them forever, and the sooner they find out, the better. But then, what were they supposed to do? What would _he_ do if he were in their position? How could Albus help them if he didn't know himself?

He passed Madam Pince without a greeting. Dumbledore halted in the entrance to the library. The moment his eyes met Ed's golden orbs, he realized that at least one of them knew the terrible truth already. Edward Elric had a look of a man whose entire world just crumbled around him.

"You." His voice was a hoarse whisper.

Alphonse looked at the Headmaster, utterly confused, begging for an explanation. Professor Dumbledore took a deep breath and looked at both of them gravely.

"Flamel is gone."

* * *

**Welcome to the first entry of my Harry Potter plot-fixing guide! I hope you guys enjoy it!**

_**Filling plot-holes and explaining the unexplained** _

**1\. Unicorn Blood and its Curse**

" ** _It is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips._ " – Firenze to Harry Potter**

**In short, drinking unicorn blood saves your life no matter what, there's a price to pay for killing a unicorn. The blood was what sustained Quirrel and Voldemort's fused form. Tom Riddle's spirit could live without a body because of the Horcruxes. But he needed something to start his body with. In book 1, Quirrel drank blood straight from the dead unicorns. In book 4, Petter Pettigrew made a potion to keep Tom's "pseudo-body" alive, for which ingredients were: the blood and Nagini's venom.**

**All fine and dandy, but they never explained the price. What does the "cursed half-life" mean? Why was it so bad?**

**Well, I assume that it is related to the _quality of_ _living_. With that said, here are few examples of the side-effects:**

**1) Your body deforms, preventing you from having a decent social life (how tragic :P). Proof? Voldemort's snake-like appearance after his resurrection in book 4. Seriously, if the guy's such an egomaniac (even worse than Mustang), why would he put himself in an ugly body? Didn't he use to be a lady-killer? You could say it's because he had no other options at the time. I say it's because of the curse. The guy was a snake inside, so he became a snake on the outside as well.**

**Don't worry, Voldy. Bellatrix Lestrange still thinks you're hot.**

**2) It makes you unable to have offsprings. Voldemort never cared about that, but for most human being, this is not convenient. Combined with the first side-effect (deformation), you can never have a normal family. So why live at all?**

**3) It makes you restless. Meaning: to the rest of your life, you can never be truly satisfied with whatever you achieve. It'd explain Voldemort's mood swings (or maybe it's Just Being Evil). You're not a teenager anymore, Voldy! Stop being so cranky all the time!**

**But I need to mention that Voldemort _didn't believe in_ _this_ _side-_ _effect_. He thought that when he finally reached his goals: killing Harry Potter and taking over the world, he'd feel satisfied. Here is his ignorance. Villains are never happy, Voldy. Don't you know that?**

" ** _I'm never happy._ " – Zuko, Avatar the Last Airbender**

**(Okay, so maybe Zuko doesn't really count as a villain. A reformed villain. Or an anti-hero. But still!)**

**4) It prevents you from turning into a ghost. This effect is not known to wizards, because it can't be proven. People who cursed themselves with Unicorn Blood want nothing more but death after a while. They wouldn't want to come back anyway. But, considering what ghosts _are_ , it's more of a blessing, really.**

**5) It permanently taints your soul. It makes you recognizable for creatures sensitive to Dark Magic. For example, Centaurs or Thestrals could sense Voldemort presence. This specific side-effect is what Nicolas Flamel refereed to when he said it could be against him. For one, locating Voldemort is going to be easy from now on. It's also possible to develop spells just against him, for example, entrance wards. It'd become a part of the plot later on.**

**With these as results of killing a unicorn and drinking it's blood… yeah, I think it qualifies as a "cursed half-life". Problem solved.**

**2\. Centaurs**

**" _Never try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon._ " – Rubeus Hagrid**

**Centaurs – also known as 'Kentauroi' or 'Kentaurides' (male and female Centaurs) are sure interesting creatures. According to Greek mythology, they observe the skies and make predictions based on it because their mother was Nephele, the goddess of the clouds. However in HP universe, nobody is able to remember if it's true or not, not even the Centaurs themselves. Intelligent like humans, but unable to perform magic, beside divination. But seriously, what's up with them? Why do they hate humans so much? And what are they doing in the Forbidden Forest next to Hogwarts?**

**1) Prejudice. Centaurs are raised to hate humans from early childhood. The ones they occasionally meet don't help much to change their stereotype: Hogwarts' teenagers are usually cocky, disrespectful and downright unpleasant (what kind of students wander into the forest willingly?). Well, we suck, after all. But so do they. They're proud, close-minded and stubborn, not to mention vengeful and unforgiving.**

**2) Ancient conflicts. Past wars are good reason enough for Centaurs not to trust humans. I'll be diving more into humans-vs-magical-creatures wars in another entry. In short, wizards and Centaurs didn't exactly get along in the past. No wonder they want to kill us all.**

**3) Upbringing. They're a warrior clan. Don't think "Humans=Good & Not Humans=Evil" or the other way around. Centaurs are taught to be distrustful, wary of dangers, and consider every trespasser an enemy. There's no negotiating with them.**

**4) Divination. Centaurs' religion is heavily focused on their belief in fate. Basically they believe that mankind is doomed. Thus, the whole "Harry Potter will meet the Dark Lord and die, because a star says so" thing in book 1. Some Centaurs, like Firenze, believe that we affect fate by our choices, which is a much better concept (it also fits the Elric brothers' philosophy more). Divination is going to be an entire entry, so let's leave it at that.**

**5) Pride. Despite the pact with Hogwarts that Centaurs would not to hurt the "foals" (students), they aren't friendly with Hagrid, or even Dumbledore. They want to be left alone, and the only reason they tolerate humans is that they have no other place to go. Anywhere else they'd be hunted down, either by Muggles or other wizards. But Hogwarts is under a Fidelius Charm, making it impossible to locate on a map, keeping them safe from the dangers of the outside world.**

**(I do not know if there are still any other Centaurs clans left. I assume so, but they must be hidden in other magic-protected areas.)**

**6) Race preservation. They want to avoid mixing races. It may come as a shock to you, but almost all magical creatures that talk can breed with humans (it's going to be introduced in the plot soon). However Centaurs don't want romances "Little Mermaid Style", where a Centaur falls in love in a human or the other way around. It would only lead to problems, in their belief. It _could_ potentially end the prejudices and the fighting between the races – but oh well. Their loss.**

**I wanted to make that clear because the Centaurs' behavior in the books was very confusing. I want to go through other magical creatures, like Goblins and house-elves, too.**

**3\. The Sorting Hat**

**Ah, our favorite hat! It can talk, it can read your mind, it even can sing! Too bad it's not very fashionable.**

**There'd been many speculations as to what the Sorting Hat actually is. Is it an artificial being, an imprint of a person, a soul bonded to an object, or something completely different?**

**But, remember what kind of crossover this is? For the sake of the Elric brothers, the Sorting Hat has a soul bonded to it, of course. So _who is the hat_ , then? And how exactly this person came to be a hat? Let's get some backstory!**

**Once upon a time, there was a young orphaned boy named Godrick. Yes, you know which one! He was taken in by a lonely old witch, Rohesia Griffindor. She taught him magic and took care of him, like a mother or a grandmother would. Even after meeting and befriending the people who would become the rest of Hogwarts' Founders (Salazar, Helga and Rowena), Godrick was still depending on Rohesia's advice. She was wise and insightful. She also was a natural with Legilimency, magic mind-reading, and very perceptive of people.**

**Then one day, she got bitten by a Jaculus (a mythical winged serpent), which at the time was incurable to magic. Godrick killed the foul creature wit his goblin-forged sword, but it was too late. She was weak and dying. It was Rohesia's own wish to be put into her favorite hat (I don't need to explain that she was an eccentric woman), which she'd been wearing at the time. She came up with the spell ( _not_ alchemy) herself, which turned the effect of the Jaculus' venom around. Rohesia desired to be still useful for her adopted son and guide him with his life-project, Hogwarts. With the four Founder's combined effort, the Jaculus venom and her spell, she became the Sorting Hat.**

**Rohesia Griffindor always loved music, that's why she greets the youngsters each year with a different song. The crazy old lady inside the tattered hat is pretty content with her existence, even after a thousand years. She doesn't mind that people see her as just a magic hat. She always had a weakness for hats. Such a shame her fashion sense might be even worse than Edward's ;D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> Cliffhanger!
> 
> Sorry, but I can offer you no answers yet :P
> 
> Why did I make their cover story being from Hungary instead of German? Well, I know that Amestris is based on Germany, but Dumbledore doesn't. The only reason why he chose Hungary to be their supposed fatherland is because Hungarian is a craaazy hard language to learn and not many speak it. I mean it, it's really difficult. There were chances one of the teachers knew German and would realize that Amestrian didn't sound like it. Besides, Hungary is awesome :D
> 
> What do you guys think? Next time, one of the entries is going to be "The curse of the DADA's post". Any more suggestions? Please put them in the comments. Thank you everybody for your comments, I really appreciate them and they motivate me to write more ;) Read on and enjoy!


	7. Stories and Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> The scene that includes Harry and Dumbledore's dialogue is, of course, not mine. I barely made any additions to it, to match my style of writing. Beside that, it's straight from the book.
> 
> And of course, I do not own any of the characters from "Harry Potter" nor "Fullmetal Alchemist". Seriously, it should have been obvious. Unless you thought my real name is J. K. Rowling, or Hiromu Arakawa. I regret to inform you that it is not.

"Flamel is gone."

* * *

The Elrics stared at Dumbledore in dead silence.

" _ **What?**_ "

It was Alphonse who spoke – Ed was still too much out of it to respond.

"What do you mean, he's gone?! What happened to him?"

"I really don't know," the old Professor shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry. I don't know where he is. Nicolas just… disappeared. He's gone."

"Don't you have any idea where to find him?"

"Believe me, if I had the faintest clue, I'd be chasing him right now. But unfortunately, he could be anywhere by now."

The last two words were what snapped Ed out of his trance. When he read that sentence in the alchemy book, it was like a part of his brain shut down. Numbness. He didn't, _couldn't_ feel any particular emotion beside shock, because it was simply too difficult. Have they really spent… _centuries_ in that portal? How was it possible? Why couldn't they remember it? _How they were still alive?_ He chose to focus on those questions for now because otherwise, his thoughts would wander around to reach this horrifying confusion:

Amestris, their home, their friends, their family… everything was gone. It didn't exist anymore.

Then Dumbledore spoke and made him realize something. 'By now'… _When_ was _now_ , exactly? Another emotion filled Ed's hurt, confused mind, one he could handle much easier than grief, so he immediately embraced it. Anger.

" **YOU!** " Ed roared, startling his brother, the old wizard and the witch present. Madam Pince quickly left the library, though rather due to fear than respect of their privacy.

The Headmaster put an expression of polite interest, with patience developed over decades of dealing with plenty over-emotional teenagers. However, Edward Elric's outrage could hardly be compared to an average adolescence mood-swing. But his frustration was justified, Dumbledore supposed. Not everyday people find out they had landed over a half of a millennium in the future, after all.

Ed stepped forward, fuming, with fury that would make a lion cower in fear, and yelled at the top of his lungs (which were quite powerful, due to years of practice spent ranting at a certain Colonel): "YOU BASTARD, HOW DARE YOU…!"

Al jumped to his brother and held him back, surprised at his sudden outburst. "Brother, calm down!"

"NO!" Ed snapped and glared at him. "Al, you don't understand! **He lied to us!** "

Al froze. It already occurred to him that something was very wrong with Brother, the moment that book fell from his hands. Ed _never_ dropped anything. During their years of training with Teacher, she hammered into their brains to take care of their belongings, so they always make sure to never drop anything again – especially in Izumi's presence. If Brother stopped in mid-sentence and let a book he held fall down, it meant something really, really bad. But Al hadn't know it was related to Professor Dumbledore. He thought they could trust him… had they been wrong?

Slowly, he let Ed go and took a defensive stance.

"What do you mean, Brother?"

Ed, seeing he had his little brother back on his side, pointed accusingly at the wizards face. "He said Nicolas came here with the Stone two days ago! **He** **lied!** "

Dumbledore said calmly, "Actually, I have never said that."

"But you implied it!" Ed screamed. "You deliberately mislead us!"

"I cannot deny that. However, I had no intention of keeping the truth from you for long. In fact, the reason I'm here is just that; truth. I didn't come just to tell you that I failed to find Nicolas."

"I don't understand! What's going on?" Alphonse was so confused. "What are you two talking about?"

Dumbledore turned away from glaring Ed and peered at the younger Elric. He wondered how he was going to react, and was worried the revelation might be too much for the kinder boy.

"Should I explain?" he asked quietly. "Or you prefer your brother to do so?"

"You go ahead, bastard," Ed snarled, clenching his fists. "You owe it to both of us. Tell us. Exactly **how long** has it been since Flamel came with the Philosopher's Stone to England?"

A beat of tense silence passed before the crushing reply came.

"Six hundred sixty five years... Precisely."

Al gasped and staggered backwards.

" _What?!_ That's…!" his voice was filled with horror and disbelief.

Watching his face going pale, Ed felt like somebody punched him in the gut really hard. _It's all my fault,_ Edward thought and the guilt overwhelmed him. It was him who pulled his dear brother into his mess. He called him to Central to help him with Flamel. He failed to predict that Nicolas would discover Al's presence in the building. He stupidly ran into the portal as it started closing. It was all his fault.

And now because of him, they were in a different country, stuck in the _future_ of all places (or times?), in a foreign country with unknown dangers and rules. Because of him, Al was feeling lost, he knew nothing about the culture of England, not even the language, stranded far away from all things familiar, away from home: Resembool, the place where they were supposed to be right now. Where May was, the woman Alphonse loved and chose to marry. Where Winry was, their childhood friend, Al's beloved sister-in-law and Ed's faithful wife, who always waited for them to return, who probably waited years and years and-

_Oh no._

Winry. She was pregnant.

_**Please** no._

Edward's child must have been born four months after their disappearance. He wouldn't know if the child was born healthy, if the mother was okay. He would never find out if it was a boy. He wouldn't get a chance to name the child if he had been right. He would never… be _there_ for his family…

_I'm a monster. I abandoned them… Just like Hohenheim…_

But Hohenheim at least had a reason to leave. On the Promised Day, Ed came to terms with everything and even called him his father, after the ancient man offered himself for exchange of Al's soul and body. Hohenheim never wanted to abandon them, he loved them both, and despise Edward's hatred continued to do so. And even if it took ten whole years for him to return, he in fact _did_ return. And Ed… if they were in such distant future, it meant that he didn't and wouldn't return. Ever. His wife and child (whose name he wouldn't even know!) spent their entire lives, grew old (hopefully) and died _without him_ , never knowing what actually happened to Ed. And Edward had nobody to blame for that but himself.

And if it wasn't bad enough, it went as well for Alphonse. Al would never marry May. He wouldn't have his own kids and family that Ed knew he always dreamed of. All because of his awful older brother and his _foolishness…_ Just like with the human transmutation, Ed dragged his innocent little brother into this…

Ed took a shaking breath and grabbed his bangs in grief. He wanted to scream, to apologize to Al and beg for forgiveness, but couldn't get a word out.

Alphonse looked at Ed when he heard him inhale loudly. Like always, he could read Brother's expressive eyes like a book: guilt, horror, shame, pain, sorrow, guilt again… and Al knew the source of these emotions all too well. Like always, Ed wasn't worried about himself, that he wouldn't be able to go back to Amestris and would spend the rest of his life stuck in another world. For some ridiculous reason Edward must have been blaming himself for their predicament, he must have believed that it was somehow _his_ fault what happened and not Nicolas Flamel's. Al, in spite of his own shock and uncertainty, knew he had to snap Ed out of it right now, before he drowned himself in self-loathing regret.

He put his slightly trembling hand on Ed's shoulder and shook him.

"Brother, get a grip!" Al ordered. "We can't just fall apart like that."

Edward stared at him in shock. Alphonse stood in front of him, forcefully grabbed him by the arms and made his older brother look him in the eye.

"It's not over! I refuse to believe it." The tone had a surprising amount of confidence, considering Al was feeling just as shaken as Ed must have felt. "Have you forgotten about Winry? Are you going to leave your _wife_ and _child_ behind without a fight? What about May, Granny, Mustang, Hawkeye, Ling and all of our friends? Are you just going to give up on them?"

"But Al..." Ed chocked out. His teeth were gritted with pain that became both emotional and physical. His eyes stung, but he refused to cry. He didn't deserve it. "If… If it's been six hundred years, then…"

" _Listen to me_ , Brother. How many times have we been in a hopeless situation before? What do we do when the world turns on us? He push forward, we stand up and walk, your own words Ed! Remember when everybody thought we could never restore ourselves back to normal? You remember what you promised me! How about that time when you were trapped inside Gluttony and Envy told you there was no way out? Or when Father activated his array on the Promised Day? Or when I gave up my blood seal to get your arm back? You didn't give up back then! Are you really going to now?"

As Al spoke, Ed's body relaxed and his expression changed. Alphonse felt his own heart fill with hope as he watched the familiar fire being lit up in his brother's golden eyes, the fire that truly made him the Fullmetal Alchemist and that Al as the younger brother always admired.

Ed took his hand in their usual gesture and tightly squeezed Al's fingers. There was nothing of that defeated demeanor left. It had been all chased away and replaced with fierce determination.

"No, you're right, Al. I remember. I made a promise to you… I can't believe I almost forgot. I'm sorry for being such an idiot."

Al suddenly pulled him close and put his head on Ed's shoulder. They both needed it right now. Edward was his source of strength, and Al was Ed's. They would find a way out, even if it took going against the flow of the world, even time and space. Together, he really believed they could endure anything.

"I forgive you, Brother," he told him, conveying all of his love and reassurance in those simple words.

They both seemed to have forgotten the Professor, who watched the scene with outwardly impassive expression. However on the inside, the Headmaster felt like weeping. Seeing those two so close, filled with such unshakable faith in one another while they were being tested like this… He thought of his own brother, Aberforth Dumbledore. They hadn't spoken in years. The last time they have met, Aberforth was still bitter and distrustful towards him. He had never forgiven Albus what had happened to their poor sister Ariana. The beautiful words Edward and Alphonse said; "I'm sorry" – "I forgive you brother"… he doubted he and Aberforth would ever exchange them. As the Elrics pulled away from each other, Dumbledore secretly envied them from the bottom of his heart.

"The portal."

Ed's voice interrupted the moment. Alphonse and Professor Dumbledore looked curiously at the older Elric. He seemed to have realized something.

"The portal that Nicolas used. That's the key," he explained thoughtfully. "Somehow, it sent us six hundred years into the future… As difficult as it is to believe." Ed tapped his chin and looked at the ceiling. "Not only that, it sent us to another country. Either England is in a different world, or a different dimension, or a different universe, or a different timeline… whichever it is, it is different and because of that, we still have a chance to get back. You're right, Al, it's not over yet. Maybe we can return before anybody realizes that we're gone..." His brow furrowed. "But first, we need to find Flamel. We won't be able to figure his out without him."

"That's exactly the problem. He's gone," Dumbledore told him heavily. "And we don't have much time to find him."

"Why?" Ed asked, anxious about the way the old wizard said it.

"He'd been using the Sorcerer's Stone for over six hundred years," Dumbledore explained. "Now that it's gone..."

"It's true then," Al murmured mostly to himself. "We really are in the future… Six hundred sixty five years…"

"Flamel has been using the Philosopher's Stone this whole time?" Ed was a little amazed. That was a _really_ big amount of time. Even Father and Hohenheim didn't hold onto their Stones for that long. And the one Nicolas took was a lot smaller than theirs. However he could have used magic to prolong its availability with magic… yes, it only made sense. Back when they studied together they looked for ways to combine magic and alchemy. If Nicolas lived for centuries he certainly had enough time to figure it out. He might have also mixed the Stone with some other substance, possibly even more powerful, since the shards hadn't turned into dust and vanished. Ed cursed quietly under his breath. "So without it he doesn't have much longer to live. He's going to turn into an old man and die." _Just like Hohenheim did after the battle…_

"He's got two more months left," Dumbledore confirmed.

"How would you know that?" Al asked with surprise.

"He told me so," the Professor shortly recounted the words of farewell Nicolas had given him. Edward seemed skeptical though.

"Couldn't he lie about it?"

"Hmm… I haven't considered..." Albus thought about it for a moment. Eventually he just shook his head. "No, I doubt he lied. He gave me the real Stone, after all – the fact that you two have arrived, the exact moment I destroyed it, is proof enough. He could have just given me a decoy. I don't see any reason for him to lie about the amounts of Elixir of Life he had prepared for himself. No matter how weak it might sound, he sounded sincere. I'm not easily fooled..." Dumbledore winced a bit. "Well, at least I used to think so."

"I still don't understand _why_ he asked you to destroy the Stone the first place," Edward was very suspicious. "If he enjoyed living for six full centuries, I don't see why he suddenly changed his mind."

It occurred to Dumbledore he had completely forgotten that the Elrics had no idea about the Stone being at Hogwarts for the last several months.

"Something happened in Hogwarts last week," he started. "You see, this castle is considered one of the safest magical places in the world. Before the school year started, Nicolas asked me to keep the Stone hidden from a certain threat. However-"

Ed interrupted: "Professor Quirrell tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone and got killed fighting for it, didn't he?"

"Oh, you already know about that. I has to say, I'm impressed."

Edward shrugged.

"Professor McGonagall told us a teacher called Quirrell died a couple of days ago. She didn't tell us about the details, but it's not hard to piece things together."

Alphonse suddenly butted into the conversation. "I still have one question, though."

"Yes?"

"What does 'Harry Potter' have to do with any of this? Who is that?"

Dumbledore didn't answered instantly, as he was momentarily speechless. Not because the change of topic caught him off guard, but because of how rare this question was. There was no one in Wizarding World who had never heard of Harry Potter. Everybody knew about 'the Boy who Lived', the infant who defeated the Dark Lord and survived the Killing Curse. Then again, Albus reminded himself, the Elric brothers weren't exactly from this world.

Ed looked at Al with a lifted eyebrow. He didn't seem surprised with the change of topic in the slightest.

"So you heard that too, huh? I've been wondering as well."

"I was listening to some of the students' conversations at breakfast. I didn't know you paid attention Brother."

"Yeah, well, it was difficult to miss. That name came up at least seven times, and that's a lot for an ordinary school gossip. Each time it was in context with 'Professor Quirrell' and 'Professor Dumbledore'. Didn't hear anything about the Stone though. Still, I suppose it means you know that person very well." The last sentence was, of course, directed to the Headmaster. "So, who is this Potter guy?"

"And how was he involved with the Philosopher's Stone?" Al added.

"Mr. Potter indeed confronted Quirinus Quirrell and stopped him from taking the Stone."

"Is he another teacher?" Alphonse guessed.

"No, Mr. Potter is not a teacher at Hogwarts."

Ed cocked his head with curiosity. "Who is he then? A celebrity or something?"

"You couldn't have been more accurate, Mr. Elric," Dumbledore chuckled. He made a pause for his next words to have a bigger impact. "Harry Potter joined Hogwarts this year as a student. He's eleven years old."

If the Professor expected an amusing reaction from the Elrics, he sure was disappointed. Well, he couldn't have known that at that age, Edward performed human transmutation, bonded his brother's soul to a suit of armor, lost two limbs and had them painfully replaced with automail. Not to mention joining the military the next year and saving the entire country when he was barely sixteen. Stopping an evil schoolteacher wasn't that much of an accomplishment for an eleven-year-old in their eyes.

"So, beside the fact that he took down that traitor Professor of yours, who is he?" Ed asked again.

Dumbledore sighed. He took his wand out and wave gently. Three nice upholstered chairs appeared out of nowhere, startling the Elrics a bit. Al was more freaked out than Ed, though. He still couldn't get over the fact that magic ignored Equivalent Exchange.

"You're going to hear that story sooner or later, so I might as well tell you now," the Professor invited them to sit down. After they reluctantly did so, Dumbledore proceed to tell them about the events that took place in the little village of Godrick's Hollow, ten years earlier. The story of 'the Boy who Lived'.

He began with explaining about the war and the terror Voldemort spread in the Wizarding World. The Elric brothers appeared like it wasn't something unfamiliar to them, judging from their dark expressions. When the prejudice against Muggle-borns was brought up, Edward was absolutely furious. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Al put a hand of his shoulder and asked the Professor to continue. Dumbledore mentioned his involvement, the Order of the Phoenix and their protection of Muggles and Muggle-borns to get on their good side, and it seemed to work, because Ed visibly relaxed. The elder wizard skipped the part about the Prophecy entirely, since it was way too dangerous to share with them. Besides, somehow he doubted those two would believe in such thing, with their stubborn, overly-scientific minds. So instead, he just implied Voldemort was looking for the Potters because of their membership in the Order, which wasn't too far from the truth. He didn't know, however, that Edward and Alphonse could easily tell when somebody was hiding something.

Albus told them briefly about Sirius Black, the person who betrayed the Potters and revealed their location to Voldemort. Even Al was disgusted. _How could anybody do this to their childhood friend?_ The question was written in two pairs of golden eyes. Finally, the Professor arrived at the last part of the story. The reactions he got were not what he expected.

"Wait a second. There's a spell for **killing people**?" Ed's face paled like chalk.

"Yes, the Killing Curse, ' _Avada Kedavra_ '. It's one of three unforgivable curses. The second is Cruciatus Curse, ' _Crucio_ ', which causes the victim unimaginable pain without any actual damage to the body. It's the tool Voldemort's supporters, the Death Eaters, used for torture. The last one, Imperius Curse, or ' _Imperio_ ', gives the caster unlimited control over the victims body. The worse part is you can't really tell if somebody is being controlled or not. They could behave completely normal for weeks, and still be under the spell. People under Imperius Curse has also receive advances strength so they're even more dangerous. It can't affect what's inside the mind though. Each of those spells are illegal and for using it on another human being costs a life-sentence in Azkaban, a high-security prison for wizards and witches."

Al and Ed stared at him with wide horrifying eyes.

"You mean… someone can just… _wave a stick_ at us and control us like puppets?" Al gulped, absolutely terrified.

Ed's hands turned into fists. He was shaking a bit, with fear or rage, it was hard to tell.

"What kind of..." He stopped took a breath to calm himself. "What kind of **monster** invented those spells? For control, torture and murder? All three, their purpose is purely _evil_. They can't even be used in self-defense."

"That's just wrong," Al agreed, equally disturbed. "Alchemy can do wicked, cruel things, but there are always two sides to it. It can be used to take human lives, but it can also save them. But this..."

"You mean to tell us than any of you wizards, even students, _kids_ , can just walk up to people, and have absolute power over them with just a simple spell?"

"Those spell require a rather impressive amount of magic power to cast though, it's not as simple as it sounds." Dumbledore tired to placate the two alchemists. "You're right, all three spells are very dangerous and morally wrong, which is why they are called the Unforgivable Curses. The consequences of casting just one are too horrifying for most wizards to even consider using them."

"But you said two of those are untraceable," Ed said angrily. "It must be laughably easy to get away with it!"

"All three are untraceable, yes," Dumbledore admitted sadly.

Alphonse hid his face in the palms of his hands. His shoulders were shivering. Ed put a protective arm over his back and glared at the Professor, blaming him for Al's emotional state.

"Then what stops criminals from using it all the time? This Imperius Curse sounds like a perfect solution for practically everything. They could rob whoever they wanted to, they could control important people of your government… or get rid of those who opposed them. Aren't there any ways of protecting yourself from the Curses?"

"No protective magic against them has been invented… However, when it comes to Imperius Curse, there are ways to nullify its effects."

"No protective magic has been invented…?" Ed muttered quietly and grimaced his lips. _Not yet, anyway. I don't buy_ _it_ _. I won't let anybody control me._ He suddenly had a goal in this place.

"There are?" Al lifted his head. The thought of somebody talking control of his body reminded him of the time he had been possessed by Pride. It was the most disgusting, terrifying experience, and the way he had been used against his brother by the Homunculi… To think that someone else could to that to him so easily, force him to hurt Ed or maybe even kill him, it was too much. But if there was a way to interrupt the spell, perhaps there was hope he would be able to stop it.

Dumbledore nodded.

"There are charms and elixirs that can snap people out of it. Also, some individuals with strong minds are able to resist the spell." He smiled at Ed. "With your magical feat yesterday, I have a feeling you two would be completely immune to it."

Both Elrics let out a loud sigh of relief. _To train the mind, one must first train the body_ , they thought simultaneously. They had followed this rule since their childhood. If a strong mind was all that was required to resist – well, those wizards got nothing on them.

"That's good to hear," Al smiled, his mood definitely improved.

Dumbledore continued the story and finally explained that Harry Potter was the only known person who had survived the Killing Curse. Ed was far from impressed. So what if the boy survived a serial killer's attack? Big deal. He and Al had more attempts on their lives than he could count and they were still here. Then again, he wasn't a baby when he was attacked by Scar, or ambushed by the Slicer. That child must have completely helpless and yet he managed to get out of it alive. He wouldn't think it was something to be worshiped for, though, it was just luck. Survival of the fittest.

"So because the Voldemort wizard attacked him and he lived, now Harry Potter is a celebrity?" Al asked to get the facts straight.

"I sort of feel bad for him," said Ed. "Poor kid probably can't remember it, and everybody treats him like a hero or something because he got lucky."

"You seem to understand Mr. Potter quite well, Mr. Elric," the Professor's eyes twinkled in amusement.

"I just know how it feels," Ed told him absentmindedly. When he noticed the Headmaster's curious expression, he waved it off. "Never mind. Great, so now we know who the Harry boy is. But what are we going to do about Nicolas? Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful the kid helped stopping Quirrell and all – a Philosopher's Stone in the hands of a mass murderer sounds like a horrible idea – but still. I think that's the more pressing issue right now."

"I'll do everything in my power to find him," Dumbledore promised. "I'm going to spread the word, every pair of eyes in the Wizarding World is going to look for him. As soon as we hear about his location I'll inform you. But for now, all you two can do is wait, I'm afraid."

Ed scoffed. "You really expect us to sit and do nothing?"

"I know it's hard," the old man told him with sympathy. "And I'm sure you're impatient to get back to your wife and child." Edward blinked with surprise at Dumbledore's avuncular smile. "I heard Alphonse mentioning them in your earlier conversation, if I'm not mistaken. I am a little astonished, I admit, you look so young..."

"I'm twenty one," Ed grumbled, unhappy that everybody assumed he was still a teenager. "And Al is a year younger than me. I've been married for two years."

"Congratulations. Your child, is it boy or a girl?"

"Don't know, hasn't been born yet." Ed felt himself fill with new determination. He _was_ going to get back no matter what, and he _was_ going to win his bet with Winry. He gave the Professor a wide grin. "I'm pretty sure it's going to be a boy though."

"Sure, Brother, whatever you say." Alphonse rolled his eyes. He was incredibly glad to hear his brother say it, though. It meant Ed believed they would get back home.

Dumbledore stood up and the brothers followed his example.

"I think I'll go visit Mr. Potter in the hospital wing. He's still recovering from his confrontation with Professor Quirrell. Poppy told me he's probably going to wake up soon."

"You don't mind keeping the things we told you about the Philosopher's Stone a secret, do you?" asked Al seriously. "We don't think anybody else should know about it. People can use this knowledge for terrible things."

"Of course," the Professor agreed. "Besides, I wouldn't want the boy to carry even more on his shoulders than he already has."

Although Edward disagreed with the policy of 'children can't handle things adults can', he didn't say anything. It wasn't really their business how the Headmaster treated his students.

"But what are we supposed to do?" he asked.

"I suggest you stay in Hogwarts as guests for a bit. Are you enjoying the library?"

"Oh yes, it's amazing!" Al grinned. "I can't wait to learn English to read those books. They look fascinating."

Dumbledore beamed. It was great to see youths so enthusiastic about knowledge. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you want. Perhaps you can figure out something about that portal. I know a thing or two about magic, but the one that appeared when you two showed up, it was nothing like I've ever seen. It's troubling there's a kind of magic I haven't even heard of."

"Oh no, something new and different. How horrible." Ed commented dryly. Al elbowed him.

The Professor ignored the sarcasm. "Speaking of new and different… I spoke with Minerva before I came here. She mentioned something about you two performing alchemy at breakfast. Is that true?"

"Yes, I hope it's not a crime or something." Ed rolled his eyes.

"Oh no, it's splendid!" Dumbledore clapped his hands with excitement. Ed blinked at him. This old guy was so strange. "Truly, I was quite positively surprised. Alchemy is a very difficult art. I don't even know half of the things Nicolas does. To think that you could perform it on the spot… It takes me hours to make the simplest transmutation circle."

"You're not such a great alchemist, then."

"Brother!"

"What? It makes me wonder if my..." Ed snorted."...'student'… got any better in the last six hundred years. I'd be quite disappointed if he was only as good as you are."

Dumbledore looked very interested and a little shocked.

"Edward. You mean to tell me that… it was _y_ _ou_ who taught Nicolas alchemy?"

"Not the basics. He learned it from the books in the State Alchemist library in West City. I taught him more advanced alchemy and shared my discoveries in the medical field."

"Medical field…?" Dumbledore's eyes widened a bit. "Nicolas told me medical alchemy is the most difficult type of alchemy…!"

"Al knows more about it than I do." Ed pointed with his thumb at his little brother. "He studied alkahestry, which is another type of alchemy from a country next to ours. It specializes in medical uses."

"Don't be so modest, Brother," Al contradicted. "You know much more alchemy than I do. You published at least a dozen of books about your research."

Albus stared at the two. He seemed to be doing that a lot. These brothers were really something else.

"You two must be prodigies..." he murmured, intrigued to find out more about the Elrics.

"We've been learning alchemy for a long time, ever since we were children," Alphonse explained. "And we were taught by a brilliant Teacher."

"I would love to have a discussion with you over tea later."

"If you'd be willing to tell us more about magic technique, I don't see why not," Ed agreed but then his eyes narrowed dangerously. "But don't think I forgot that you lied to us, bastard. I still don't trust you."

Albus chuckled.

"I'm sorry about that. I hope that someday I may win at least a modicum of your trust back."

Ed shrugged and said: "Whatever."

The Professor was finally about to leave when he stopped in the exit and turned around.

"Ah, almost forgot. During lunch break, a girl with brown hair might come in here, possibly accompanied by a red-headed boy. Ms. Hermione Granger and Mr. Ronald Weasley are their names. They're both good friends of Mr. Potter and they're quite worried about him. If you could tell them to come to the hospital wing, I'd appreciate it."

"How old are the kids?"

"They're Mr. Potter's age."

"Alright, we'll tell them," Al promised. He exchanged a look with Ed and saw a flicker of sadness on his face. It was impossible to forget when another little girl visited them during their research in a library… Nina.

When Dumbledore left, Ed supported himself on a bookshelf and closed his eyes.

"You okay, Brother?"

"Yeah, Al, I'm fine," he said. "I'm just a bit tired. It's… a lot to take in."

"Tell me about it." Al sat on the chair and put his hands on his lap. "Hopefully Professor Dumbledore can find Mr. Flamel before..."

"Yeah." Ed didn't want to think about it. There was no way he was letting Nicolas merrily go to the afterlife before he'd beat the crap out of him. What was the stupid kid thinking, trapping them in that portal for six hundred years? Why did he do that to them? Why didn't he release them before? He couldn't believe his former friend could be so cruel. Something didn't make sense.

"I hope we won't have to resolve to _that_ method."

Ed looked at Alphonse, alarmed.

"What method? What are you talking about, Al?"

Al looked very uncomfortable.

"You remember when you were trapped in Gluttony's stomach, right?"

"Yeah, what does that has to do with any-" Ed stopped. He glared at Al. "Don't even think about it."

"I don't want to, but-"

Ed punched the bookshelf, almost breaking. A couple of books tumbled on the floor.

"We _promised_ to never do that again! If you ever suggest it I'm going to kill you."

"I don't want to consider it, Brother, you know that, but..."

"Al, now you're the one who's acting like an idiot!" Ed grabbed his shoulder so hard Al flinched in pain. "We don't have a Philosopher's Stone and I won't let you sacrifice yourself. We _will_ go home together. Besides, I don't think that would even work! We're not in a fake Portal of Truth, we're in another _world_ entirely."

"Sorry, Brother." Al really looked ashamed. "I just needed to get it off my chest. I know you'd never ask me, you worked so hard to get my body back. But I'm the only one between the two of us who can use alchemy right now. I had to ask, to make sure if it hasn't crossed your mind."

Ed still was rather angry, but released Al and nodded in understanding. They would never try anything related to human transmutation ever again. Alphonse wasn't stupid. He knew the first time they had done it, they were insanely lucky to survive. Performing the transmutation without a Stone for a toll would definitely result in his death this time. He wouldn't waste Edward's sacrifice for a slim chance of getting him home. But, he had had to ask it anyway. He owed that much to him.

 _Brother shouldn't be this upset with me, that hypocrite_ , Al thought with fondness as they resumed reading. _If he was in my place, he'd ask me the same thing for sure._

Al peeked at the concentration on Ed's face as he read the complicated text in English.

_We're both such idiots…_

A smile crossed his face.

* * *

" _AAAARGH!"_

_Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain – his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse._

_Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off – the pain in Harry's head was building – he couldn't see – he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of:_

_"KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"_

_And other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying:_

_"Harry! Harry!"_

_He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down... down... down…_

Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.

He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange. He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore.

Harry stared at him for a moment. Then he remembered:

"Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick-"

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore, lifting his hand in a placating gesture. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I-"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half of a candy shop.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

Harry blinked, processing the information. He decided to let the topic of the gifts be for now.

"How long have I been in here?"

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Ms. Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"But sit, the Stone-"

"I see you are not to be distracted." Dumbledore nodded with approval. "Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you."

Harry remembered the voices calling his name before he passed out.

"It was you?"

"I feared I might be too late."

The boy lowered his head. "You nearly were... I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer-"

"Not the Stone, boy, you," Dumbledore told him, and Harry looked up. "The effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But... your friend... Nicolas Flamel..."

Dumbledore looked at Harry in surprise.

"Oh, you know about Nicolas? You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"B-but..." Harry stuttered. "That means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order... afterwards, yes, they will die." Dumbledore agreed with a thoughtful expression. Then he smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face. "To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all – the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking... sir. Even if the Stone's gone, Vol- I mean, You-Know-Who-"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time. And if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... things I want to know the truth about..."

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed again, very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day... put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older... I know you hate to hear this... when you are ready, you will know."

And Harry knew it would be no good to argue. "But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, "And the invisibility cloak – do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah, your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things... your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

"And there's something else…"

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape-"

" _Professor_ Snape, Harry," Dumbledore gently corrected him, but Harry brushed it off:

"Yes, him. Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

Harry gaped.

" _What?_ "

"Yes..." said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace..."

Harry tried to understand this, but it made his head pound, so he stopped.

"And sir, there's one more thing…"

Dumbledore cocked his head. "Just the one?"

"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that." The old wizard smiled with amusement and a little bit of pride. "It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone (find it, but not use it) would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes..." He stood up and said, "Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them – but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?" He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

* * *

Hermione entered the library, carrying her bag already full of books. She liked coming here during lunch, it was relaxing. Other students rarely came here at that time, too busy goofing around of stuffing their faces with delicious food in the Great Hall. Peace and quiet. She liked it. But it was a bit lonely too.

Her thoughts went back to Harry. Again. When he was going to wake up? He's been unconscious for so long… Madam Pomfrey told her and Ron that he was going to be alright, but she was worried, a lot. They didn't even know what had happened.

Oh, she hoped so badly that Harry was going to be okay. If he didn't wake up soon, he'd miss the final exams!

Much to her surprise, Madam Pince wasn't in the library. How strange. There was someone else there, though. Two older boys, both had their backs turned to her so she couldn't see them very well. She had never seen them before… or had she? Then she remembered. Weren't they sitting at the teacher's table this morning? Were they new in the staff or something? They looked too young, but appearances could be deceiving, perhaps they were young adults, not teenagers. Would they become teachers next year? Oh, this was so exciting! She had a chance to see them up close!

One of them had long golden hair, tied up in a ponytail. Why did he wear it like that? It was a bit strange. The other had short hair of the same color. She wondered if they were related.

Suddenly the short-haired boy turned. Hermione instinctually shied away. It only caused the boy to notice her and look at her face. His eyes were… incredible. Huge orbs of dark molten gold, shining and beautiful, filled with understanding and kindness. She felt her cheeks blushing furiously. She told herself it was only because she was embarrassed to be caught staring.

"Oh, are you Ms. Hermione Granger?" he asked smiling at her. She knew instantly this person could become her best friend. There was just something appealing and gentle about him. She wanted to say something, but all she could do was nod. She felt so silly.

"Professor Dumbledore wants you and your friend Ronald Weasley to come to the hospital wing," the boy told her. "You're friends with Harry, right? He's going to wake up soon."

Hermione brightened. How did he know she was just thinking about him?

"Thank you, um..." she stuttered.

"I'm Alphonse," he introduced himself. He pointed at the other boy who was still reading. She was a little disappointed he didn't turn as well. She was curious if that one had the same eyes. "And that's my brother Edward. Don't mind him. Brother often gets lost in books, he can't notice a thing around him."

Just like her! She really hoped one of them would become their new Defense against the Dark Arts Professor. After all, Professor Dumbledore sure needed replacement for… 'Professor' Quirrell, right? It must have been why Alphonse and Edward were here.

She wanted to stay and talk to Alphonse, she really did, but she wanted to see Harry more. And she had to find Ron. He hadn't been himself since Harry was hospitalized. She hoped it would cheer him up.

"Thank you, Alphonse!" she told him and run out of the library.

About five minutes after she left, Ed lifted his head from the book.

"Huh? Al, did you say something?"

Al laughed.

"No, Brother, nothing at all."

Ed shrugged and went back to reading.

* * *

_**Filling plot-holes and explaining the unexplained** _

**1\. The curse of Defense against the Dark Arts post**

**Legend says that since Tom Riddle applied for the post of Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, no one was able to keep it for longer than a year. Which, consequently, leads us to believe that there'd been about 35 different DADA teachers since, because Riddle applied when he was in his twenties, not specified when though. I feel sorry for Dumbledore. Can you imagine getting a new person to teach each year? That's crazy.**

**However, we're not really questioning how it was like for the Headmaster, but how it was done. How does a person curse a _working post_? That's awfully abstract. Frankly, I think it's _stupid_. But, we're here to fix the plot-holes, right? So let's do this.**

**First, I have to explain a bit concept of magic I work with in this crossover universe. I'm not going to got into detail here, because Edward and Alphonse are going to discover it later and I don't like giving away spoilers… okay that's a lie, I LOVE GIVING SPOILERS! But still, I try to avoid it xD**

**So, for now all you need to know that magic has intelligence behind it. Let me explain.**

**How does a lightbulb glow? I know there's a lot to it, but I'll keep this simple. You need to have flowing electric energy and an undisrupted system, made specifically for a certain voltage. There was an intelligent idea behind this structure, and the energy was guided by it, instead of jumping around causing damage. Same with magic. There is a clear idea behind every spell, _intelligence_. However, how does somebody cast a spell that they don't know what it does? Harry could cast a ' _Levicorpus_ ' having no idea what it was supposed to do and yet it worked. So it wasn't _Harry's_ intelligence working on the spell. Then whose was it?**

**Apparently… magic knew what it was doing. That's the only logical explanation for this. And for that to be possible,**

**MAGIC. IS. INTELLIGENT.**

**I've gathered a lot of evidence for this claim. I have been thinking about this ever since I read the books, and the concept of Truth and alchemical principles matches my ideas perfectly. Magic, as a matter of fact, is not a mindless flow of energy like electricity. If it was, it wouldn't be so easy to utilize. There's a reason why it took us so long to invent a light-bulb, people.**

**Now compare your computer to a light-bulb. If you asked me 'How does it work?' and I told you 'Well, electricity goes trough it so _it just works_.' You'd call me silly, and I would disagree. I would call myself an utter moron instead.**

**So magic is an intelligent force with this complicated mechanism behind it. The reason why no one had ever really explored it is because;**

**a) wizards are, well, _idiots_ , and just took magic for granted, like gravity (I know Muggles are supposed to be the ignorant stupid ones, but let's be realistic: wizards and witches stopped their progress in Middle-Ages. If that doesn't speak for itself I don't know what does). Also, using magic for everything is what makes wizards too lazy to research it,**

**b) the few who try and commit magic taboos usually disappear without trace (oops),**

**c) I cannot explain right now because SPOILERS, but it has to do with wands and dimensions (good luck with figuring THAT out! xD),**

**d) any discoveries in that area are being locked up in Department of Mysteries, just like government in Amestris did with the Philosopher's Stones.**

**There's a legit reason why Ed can control magic without a Gate of Truth. I've already established that alchemy and magic are not the same. Magic is just waiting to be understood on more than instinctual level, which is basically what wizards are doing. Those guys really need Ed and Al to set them straight. With _Science_! :D**

**But back to the topic, the curse of Defense against the Dark Arts. Voldemort committed a magical taboo to make it happen – taboos exist in magic as well as alchemy. Only magic users don't give up bits of their bodies for breaking them. This is one of the differences between alchemists and wizards that I'm going to explore later. No, Riddle's fee was something much worse, much darker than his limbs or organs. He might not be quite aware of it, but he had paid nevertheless.**

**The magic of the curse literally watches over Hogwarts, subtlety manipulating events so every DADA teacher would end up fired or desired to leave. Or, in the worst scenario, died. If a teacher has one-year contract, nothing bad happens to him. But otherwise, something would be influenced for the P** **rofessor's misfortune.**

**For Quirrell, it was Harry's pressing feeling about the night he would try to steal the Philosopher's Stone at – the feeling delivered by the intelligence of magic, thank you.**

**For Lockhart, rubble falling on his head, in an exact way that caused amnesia. He could have just gotten a concussion instead. Have it ever occurred to you that there should have been an easy way to cure him, but he had to spend next three years in St. Mungo? Again, the curse's fault.**

**For Lupin, forgetting to take the potion at that specific night. How he could have forgotten? He took it the whole year straight, I'd say it's unusual. I blame the curse.**

**For Umbridge, it were the Centaurs coming. Even though they can't perform it Centaurs are quite sensitive to magic, as I have already explained.**

**For Snape, it was _everything_. One of the reasons Dumbledore never wanted to give him the job was because he was aware of it and didn't want something horrible happen to him. But when Dumbledore got that cursed on his hand and started slowly dying, they both knew this would become a one-year-contract, so Severus would be safe from the curse.**

**I know you guys are probably a bit irritated with me, avoiding responding about so many issues. But try to understand, I really can't right now.**

**2\. Horcruxes and their 'Indestructibility'**

**Horcrux is a way for a wizard to bound himself or herself to earth, almost like a blood seal. But the difference is that you rip a part of your soul and put it in an object, while the most of it remains in your body. Reminds me of Father creating Homunculi by separating from himself the seven deadly sins of man (but of course the Dwarf in the Flask had much more of ' _his_ soul' to take away from himself than a normal human). This is one of the magic taboos and the price a wizard pays for it to happen, it's something revolting and evil. To create an abomination like that, the magic requires to make a sacrifice of another human, in other words, murder, with the ' _Avada Kedavra_ ' spell (which shall be discussed in another entry!). The only way to reunite the soul with its lost piece, is sincere remorse so deep that it could potentially destroy the person.**

**It's mentioned that a Horcrux is 'the exact opposite of a human soul'. The piece of soul is dependent on the object it'd been placed in. When it's destroyed, the piece ceases to exist forever. The Horcrux itself is very immune: it can be torn apart, crushed, broken et cetera, but it magically fixes itself. There are only a couple of ways to destroy it for good.**

**Okay, here's something that makes no sense. So Horcruxes are supposedly almost indestructible – like super-hard to get rid of – but Vincent Crabbe, one of the biggest idiots in Hogwarts, made some magic fire that could take out one in a second. What the heck?!**

**Oh, and the explanation they give?**

" ** _Fiendfyre, cursed fire. It's one of the substances that destroy Horcruxes, but I would never, ever have dared use it, it's so dangerous..._ " - Hermione**

**...What?! You mean to tell me that you knew all along a spell that can kill a Horcrux and you didn't use it because it was _dangerous_?! Well, excuuuuse me, Princess! I thought you were trying to save the world here! Haven't you risked your life repetitively before this point?**

**And you escaped from the Fiendfyre on a _broom_! A freaking _wo_ _oden_ _broom_! I'd think you had pretty high chances of survival. Crabbe only died because he was an idiot and casted the spell without caution.**

**Alright, so how do we fix this?**

**Let's say Horcruxes have realistic limitations with their supposed indestructibility. When something is durable thanks to magic, it doesn't mean "Damage Per Hit=0 instead of 1", more like "Damage Per Hit=0.001 instead of 1". It just heightens the energy needed for complete demolishment, not makes it 100% resistant. It wouldn't make sense for Horcruxes to have an unlimited supply of regeneration energy. You remember that in FMA universe souls can be converted to energy, right? The Homunculi use it to fix themselves like Horcruxes. It's the same, just enhanced with magic.**

**There are many moments in the books when magic couldn't fix ordinary physical damage, for example, Ron's wand was broken by the Whomping Willow. With enough effort, even a Muggle could destroy a Horcrux. A nuclear explosion, for instance, reaches 150 million degrees Fahrenheit – that amount of energy would obliterate everything, magical or not. But there are not many things that can reach the level of destruction needed for a Horcrux (or a Homunculus), hence the problem.**

**But what about the Fiendfyre? As I already pointed out, it's silly how an easily accessible tool to kill a Horcrux just exists with no consequence. It's more powerful than Mustang.**

**OK. I assume that Fiendfyre the only existing spell that can destroy a Horcrux, because it's not ordinary fire. This is actually a creature summoned from another dimension that looks and feels like flames, it grows and feeds on everything it burns, and is poisonous like the basilisk. It's not temperature that destroyed the Diadem but the Fiendfyre's venom. Of course, for ignorant wizards who never bothered to study the phenomenon correctly, it's just "cursed fire", like magic works "just because". The real reason why Hermione never dared to even consider using Fiendfyre is because _no witch or wizard ever performed th_ _at_ _spell and lived_. Crabbe, like I said, was an idiot. He read about the spell in a book about Dark Magic that the Carrows were giving the students on DADA. He totally missed the part about everyone dying in horrible pain. The Fiendfyre creature is very vicious and absolutely hates the person who summons it. Because of that, it never lets the wizard get away with it alive. However after it kills the person, it cannot return home but has no will to live in the world it doesn't belongs to. So, in hope to return to its rightful dimension, Fiendfyre magically commits suicide and dies. It's horrible, but the wizards never think of the consequences of their reckless magic. If I didn't have so much plans for the plot already, maybe I would dedicate a chapter or two just for this amazing creature and its extraordinary existence before its tragic death. Honestly, I feel so bad for Fiendfyre.**

**Let's have a minute of silence for our mistreated friend, whose death was caused by the ignorance of Vincent Crabbe, the biggest moron ever to attend Hogwarts. Rest in peace, Fiendfyre.**

…

**Sooo, Horcruxes! How many ways are there to destroy them, anyway?**

**1) The basilisk's venom**

**2) The Fiendfyre's venom**

**3) ...Avada Kedavra?!**

**Yeah, totally missed that, didn't you? Harry was the last Horcrux and the piece of Voldemort's soul in him was destroyed by… a spell. Again. Dang it. What do I do with this one?**

**I prepared a little theory called "how Harry was a failed Horcrux".**

**Voldemort never intended to make a seventh Horcrux, he only wanted six. Killing James and Lily resulted in the usual separation of the soul pieces. When the last killing curse ricocheted, the piece of Voldemort fell out and stuck on Harry. But it didn't 'glue on' correctly for several reason. First, I imagine there was some sort of ritual to correctly bound an object with the torn piece of soul. Second, making living creatures successful Horcruxes gave them new abilities. A proper living Horcrux would be under complete control of its master. Harry had a mental link with Voldemort, but couldn't be completely controlled by him (also because of the whole "protection of the mother's love" stuff). It would also have Homunculi-like regenerative power, so it couldn't be injured (but like it's been established, that still has limits. Nagini couldn't just jump into a volcano without a burn) or killed, even with ' _Avada Kedavra_ '. I would give it increased physical strength too (the attack on Arthur Weasley). A successful living Horcrux would be able to instantly healing injuries, and Harry definitely didn't have that. It would age at human's pace (even Nagini), however it couldn't die of being old.**

**About the aging thing – the Horcruxes didn't make Voldemort incapable of aging. I made fun of it before entry #1 for a reason. Yeah, he can't be killed, and he cannot die, not even of diseases. But he can become crippled, lose a limb or be irreparably damaged. After a while, his body would be so messed up he'd have to replace it. It's possible with magic, and he would do that, no doubt. Still, it only shows how pathetic of an attempt for immortality Horcruxes are. Father would have a good laugh.**

**But going back to Harry. The only reason ' _Avada Kedavra_ ' destroyed the Horcrux inside him was because it wasn't properly attached. The killing curse forcibly separates the soul from its body without living a mark. That's what happened to Harry, it just took out the wrong soul, leaving the original hanging for a short moment as Harry had his strange vision.**

**I bet that covers the Horcruxes! Phew, that's a long one. But I explained lots of things in this one section, so it was totally worth it :D**

**3\. Humans versus Magical Creatures**

**We know from the most captivating Professors in Hogwarts, Professor Cuthbert Binns, that goblin leaders Uric the Oddball and Emeric the Evil caused much trouble to the wizards in the past. Same with giants, centaurs, merpeople, vampires, ghouls, and, well, practically every race, maybe with the exception of the house-elves. Seriously, wizards seem to annoy a lot of races. Ever wondered why?**

**I mentioned in my centaurs entry how most magical creatures that talk can breed with humans (not all of them though: spiders for instance are beasts with high level of intelligence and they can't have offsprings with humans). This is quite important here. In FMA universe, it's established that only humans have souls (otherwise, Father and homunculi could have easily make Philosopher's Stones with animals, it would be much less trouble). But in HP universe, there are so many creatures with personalities and feelings like people. They are, in a way, practically human, because they're made of a body, mind and soul, just like us. Despite huge appearance differences between races, like horse-bodies or fish-tails, the races are all connected. That allows them to mix. Also, the creatures I listed probably have all the same ancestor.**

**But, most wizards don't see it that way. Many aren't even aware that mixed races exist. A half-breed can reproduce just like any other creature – Fleur's grandmother was a Veela, so her mother had to be half-Veela-half-human. It can also pass on non-human traits to the next generations of people, or human traits to other races. Hagrid is a half-giant and a wizard, while pure giants can't be wizards. There's naturally horrible prejudice against them, shown in the example of the most beloved Headmistress of Hogwarts (for a whole couple of month), Dolores Umbridge. But technically, every human in HP universe has a bit of other races in their blood, just like in the real world every Caucasian boy has deep-coded African and Asian traits in his DNA (true fact, you can read it up if you're interested). It's just a matter of dominant genetics for them to show up.**

**That brings us back to the cause of many racist wars: denial. Like Hitler, who wanted to kill all the Jews despite the fact that he was partly Jewish himself. Or in HP universe, like Voldemort, who wanted to kill all Muggles despite the fact that his own father was one, some people can't just admit the truth about their heritage. Wizards even call the non-magical people 'Muggles' to separate themselves from them in an act of false superiority. Same with centaurs, who despise humans, who are not really that different from them. Or the goblins, who obsess over things they produce and think they belong to them forever in their misguided sense of tradition. Or the submissive attitudes of house-elves, who think they deserve to enslaved, and are happy to serve their masters until death because that's what they're taught to believe since birth.**

**All of those are very serious and very realistic issues. I could write a whole paper on racism, how wrong it is and how much I despise it, but this isn't the right place and time, I believe.**

**Long story short, the conflicts between humans and other races in HP universe were the result of prejudice, disrespect, conflict of interests, misunderstandings, and most of all, racism. There are barely any magical creatures left in the world. Their hatred caused the races to fight so much against each other, that they had almost obliterated themselves. It's so much easier to kill with magic, just like it's easier with a gun. Ordinary humans with no magical abilities had taken over, while wizards and the non-human talking creatures were forced into hiding. There isn't many of them left, and they stay in secluded, magic-protected areas, like Hogwarts, Fidelius Charm protected mountains and caves, mines underground, depths of the oceans, or darkest wilderness of Africa.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> The reason why I haven't updated in two weeks (!) is because… LIFE. Sorry, guys, it happens :P Don't worry, next time should be sooner.
> 
> I made this chapter extra long to make up for the horribly long wait, and the fact that the last two chapters were shorter than usual (because it was originally one chapter that I had to split), and the fact that I haven't written the scene where Harry and Dumbledore talk. To be honest, I feel quite guilty for using it. It's just, this scene is so good I have no heart to take anything from it (it's my favorite part from book 1), and I need it here for various reasons. For one, I included Harry P. on the list of characters for this fic. So, there needs to be some of his perspective here and there.
> 
> But this is the first and the last time I'm stealing a scene like this. No, the presence of Edward and Alphonse is going to change everything that happens afterwards, so there's no point for me to repeating it.
> 
> Please, don't be mad at me for being a copy-cat. It is just this once. Really.
> 
> Anyway, someone had expressed an opinion that Horcruxes can't be destroyed by a nuke. Well, buddy, I may not know what it is you're thinking, but in my world, they totally can. Why? Read the entry.
> 
> If you already did, thank you for reading my second entry of "Filling plot-holes and explaining the unexplained". The next one will include "Cruciatus Curse" and "Magic of Love, Lily's Blood Wards for Harry". I'm waiting for more suggestions for future entries. Don't forget to give kudos and bookmark the story if you enjoyed it, please. Comment, read on and have a good time! :)


	8. Matters of Blood

"But what are we going to do about Nicolas? I think that's the more pressing issue right now."

"I'll do everything in my power to find him. I'm going to spread the word, every pair of eyes in the Wizarding World is going to look for him. As soon as we hear about his location I'll inform you. But for now, all you two can do is wait, I'm afraid."

* * *

Both Elrics spent the rest of the day in the library. Even with Ed's limited understanding of English, they had learned many things about magic technique, Hogwarts and even Nicolas Flamel. Alphonse spotted another alchemy book – this time a little more detailed, although it still didn't have any reference to any basic principles of alchemy whatsoever.

"They all describe Nicolas like he's the Eastern Sage or something," Ed remarked, displeased.

"Well, he sort of is, from their perspective," Al pointed out. "Think about it. Real alchemy didn't exist in this world before Mr. Flamel brought it here. Actually..." Suddenly the younger Elric grinned in uncharacteristically mischievous way.

"What?" Ed blinked, surprised with his expression.

"I was just thinking, if Nicolas Flamel is the Eastern Sage for England, then that makes _you_ the Western Sage." Al wiggled his eyebrows. "You even look a lot like dad."

Edward laughed, only now realizing the similarities of the two stories.

"Technically, my little Brother, we are _both_ the Western Sage here," Ed said, exposing his teeth like a cheetah. "You are Hohenheim's son as much as I am."

"That may be so, but it was you who taught Mr. Flamel alchemy, remember?"

"Like I told Double Door: I did _not_ teach Nick the basics, just the advanced stuff, so that doesn't really count Al."

"Oh yes it does!"

"No is doesn't!"

"Yes it does!"

"No!"

The two bickered for a while, simply enjoying each other's company. It's been so long since they had real quality time together. With Alphonse's research on chimeras and alkahestry, Edward's studies on Cretan and Aerugorian alchemy, Ed's marriage and finally Al's planned wedding, they had been so busy lately they barely had any time to chat. This week was supposed to be their break, they had planned to spend a couple of days in Resembool with Winry. Sadly, May couldn't join them, since she was called off to meet some Xingese officials on the border. But it still sounded promising; just like the old times, three childhood friends just hanging out, forgetting all about their worries and jobs for a short while. But then, there came the call from Central.

Thinking about it sobered Ed's mood a bit. They had to figure out how to get home, and soon. It may all have been his fault, but Al was right – there was no point in contemplating his blame, they had a task to accomplish and he should focus on that. _Just remember what you promised Al_ , he thought as he glanced at his beloved little brother. A sad smile crept on his lips. It felt so good to have Alphonse with him, it really did, no matter how selfish he was being. The only thing missing was Winry... and May, of course.

He accidentally sighed, immediately getting Al's attention.

"What is it, Brother?"

"Nothing, Al," Ed shook his head. _Nothing at all, except… well, everything._

* * *

Professor McGonagall came for them later, unsurprised to find them completely absorbed in their studies. When she noticed that Al was analyzing a note-sheet with some common wizard terms and other foreign language scrabbled on it, she realized he was already trying to read in English, despite the fact that he didn't speak a word of the language earlier today. Naturally, she was very impressed.

 _Those brothers might be even bigger bookworms than Ms. Granger_ , she thought smiling. She could see why they were Headmaster's acquaintances.

"Edward? Alphonse?" she said.

Al lifted his head, while Ed acted as if he couldn't hear her at all.

"Oh! Hello, Professor," he sounded slightly surprised. "What brings you here?"

"Alphonse, we agreed you can both call me 'Minerva'," she reminded him kindly.

"Oh, that's right. Sorry, Minerva." He smiled with an adorable amount of embarrassment. This must have been the most polite boy – no, young man – she had ever met, she thought. It was impossible to dislike him. "What time is it?"

"It's almost six o'clock," she told him. "Dinner is about to start. Are you two hungry?"

"Hm, yes, a little bit," Al admitted, getting up and stretching his limbs after sitting in one place for such a long time. "We skipped lunch, so I believe Brother must be starving, even if he doesn't realize it." He stood behind Ed and cleared his throat. "Brother?"

"Huh?" Ed turn after ten seconds. "You need something, Al?"

Al rolled his eyes. The Professor watched with amusement.

"Brother, Minerva says it's time for dinner."

"It can wait," Ed waved his hand and turned back to his book.

"Brother, you realize you only had breakfast today, right?"

"Let me finish this first, then we'll go eat. I'm almost done."

"You and I both know that when you say 'almost done' it means two more hours," Al got exasperated. "You need nourishment, Brother."

"Al, I'm not hung-" Ed was interrupted by a loud growl coming from his stomach. At this, McGonagall couldn't suppress a chuckle. Alphonse looked at him smugly.

"You were saying?"

"Alright, alright," the older Elric sighed and put the book away. "But we're coming back here right after dinner, got it? I gotta finish this book."

"Later, you can borrow as many books from the library as you like," Minerva told them. "I'll gladly assist you with bringing them to your room – in case there are too many for you to carry on your own." It was only a fair prediction, based on the number of books the brothers surrounded themselves with every time she visited them. Judging from their current reactions, they probably had been wondering how they were going to manage as well.

"That would be great!" Ed grinned at her. "Thanks, Minerva."

"Thank you so much for helping us," Al added with the same grateful expression.

So different, yet so alike, McGonagall mused. "You're welcome, Edward, Alphonse."

* * *

Hermione watched with highest interest as two blonds entered the Great Hall, lead by the transfiguration Professor. She immediately recognized them. One of them talked to her before she went to the hospital wing to visit Harry!

She was so happy Harry finally woke up, that she totally forgot about those two. Not to mention that her head was so full of everything Harry had revealed to her and Ron: about Quirrel, the mirror, the Stone, and _Voldemort_. It was one of those rare occasions when the true story was even _more_ strange and exciting than the wild rumors. They were both shocked to hear that the Sorcerer Stone, the cause of the whole affair, had been destroyed. It was truly sad that Nicolas Flamel, the oldest wizard alive, would soon die without it. Although she didn't exactly understand what " _to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure_ " was supposed to mean, and neither did Ron, she could see why Professor Dumbledore would agree to it.

She and Ronald would gladly skip dinner to stay with Harry, but Madam Pomfrey threw them out, insisting that the patient needed rest. Like Harry hadn't spend the last couple of days sleeping, she thought. But nobody could stand against the wrath of the Hogwarts' nurse, so the Griffindors obeyed.

Hermione elbowed Ron, who was too busy stuffing his face to notice the newcomers.

"Wha' is it, 'Mionie?" he asked with his mouth full of potatoes.

"Look! It's _them_ ," she whispered with excitement, discreetly pointing with her head.

Ronald swallowed and turned. It could be considered rude the way they were staring, but Ron and Hermione weren't the only ones. The students couldn't get a good look at the newcomers at breakfast, because of the overall morning commotion. But now as they passed the Griffindor table, they finally had a chance to see them up close. Almost every pair of eyes in the Great Halls followed the blonds. Their golden hair glimmered like sunlight in the dim glow of the candles, and some of the female students sighed dreamily after catching glimpse of their faces, which were – as even Ron grudgingly had to admit – quite handsome. But what really stood out were their clothes. The guy with long hair tied up in a ponytail ( _What kind of dude wears his hair_ _like that_ _, anyway?_ ) wore a brown trench coat, and the other a grey suit. Those were Muggle clothes, Ron realized. Were they Muggles? In Hogwarts?! Surely not… Professor Dumbledore wouldn't allow Muggles into the school, would he? He wasn't _that_ crazy, right?

The boy listened as Hermione quickly depicted her meeting during lunch break with the two blonds, before she came looking for Ron.

"Those guys were in the library?" he asked Hermione, just as curious as everybody else to find out who exactly those strange boys were.

"Aha. The one with short hair is called Alphonse, and the other is Edward. They're brothers. Edward is the older one."

"I can tell they're related!" Ron said, quite upset that Hermione thought he was too dense to figure it out on his own. "They're practically identical! Except the hair styles, obviously."

"I was thinking if they are going to be our new Defense against the Dark Arts Professors."

"Both of them? Isn't there always only one teacher at a time?"

"Maybe one of them would be an assistant, or… I don't know, it's just a guess."

"They look really young to be teachers, though. The ponytail guy is eighteen at most."

"That's Edward. And we don't know how old they are, Ron. They might be in their twenties, perhaps they only look young. Sometimes people are not what they appear to be." Her face took a serious expression. "We thought Professor Snape was after the Stone, but it turned out to be ' _Professor_ ' Quirrell in the end."

"I still can't believe we were wrong about Snape," Ron remarked. "I was so sure he was the bad guy."

"It only proves my point."

They ate in silence, glancing at the mysterious blond brothers, now sitting at the teachers' table.

"I wonder what Edward's eyes are like up close…" Hermione suddenly said. Ron raised an eyebrow.

"His eyes? Why?"

"When I talked to Alphonse, I noticed he has very unusual eye color," she said. "His eyes are golden, Ron. And I don't mean yellowish brown, I mean they really look like gold."

"Huh, that's weird."

"They were so beautiful," she said absentmindedly. "I've never seen such eyes before. It's difficult to describe, but… they were like a deep sea of molten gold filled with knowledge and gentleness..."

Ron stared at her with a horrified face.

"Blimey, Hermione, did you fall off the stairs earlier or something?!"

"What? No!" she responded with indignation.

"We were talking when you suddenly started blabbing something about knowledge and seas and some other poetic nonsense." He put his hand on her forehead, as if to check the temperature. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? Did you hit your head?"

"I'm _fine_ , Ron!" she snapped and pushed his hand away. "I guess you'll have to wait and see to understand what I mean."

"Sure, Hermione," the boy shrugged. "Just never talk like that again, you almost gave me a heart attack."

"Right," she huffed. "Just because your artistic sense is almost nonexistent doesn't mean nobody else can appreciate beauty of small things, Ronald."

Ron looked at her a little helplessly. "I have no idea why we're even talking about this. So that Alphonse guy has weird eyes, big deal. What does it have to do with anything?"

"Because, Ron," she explained patiently "Sometimes you can recognize magical influence by the eye color. It was mentioned in a book I've read some time ago. For example, it's said a couple of humanoid magical creatures, such as Veela, have extremely bright eyes, which allows wizards to recognize them from-"

"Wait, let me get this straight," Ron stopped her. "You think those guys aren't even human?"

"No, I'm sure they're human," Hermione quickly backtracked, a little ashamed she unintentionally suggested such a thing. She didn't have any right to judge people she knew nothing about. Besides, Alphonse had been so nice to her, she would hate to accidentally spread such an awful rumor about him. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let them into Hogwarts otherwise, right? But there might be a charm on them or… I don't know, it was just a speculation. It might be the reason why they're here. They were researching something in the library, after all."

"So you think Alphonse might have some weird golden-curse on him?"

"I didn't say anything like that!" she protested.

"I don't see how it'd be a bad thing," Ron said. "What if things he touches turn into gold or something? That would be so cool! It reminds me of this Muggle fairytale I heard from dad once, about a king called Mades."

"I'm pretty sure it was 'king Midas', Ron, not 'Mades'."

"Yeah, but anyway," he continued enthusiastically. "I remember that story because it was really awesome. Imagine if you could turn anything into gold? You'd be so rich! It's almost as good as the Sorcerer's Stone!"

"Don't you remember how the fairytale ended, Ron?" she asked, irritated.

"Um, no, not really... I just remember the part about turning things into gold," Ron admitted with embarrassment. Hermione sighed.

"Honestly, Ron. The king turned his daughter into a golden statue by an accident. Not only that, he couldn't eat or drink because everything in his mouth turned into gold. How is that a good thing?"

"Okay, so they were some defects to it," the boy put his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "But I still think it's really cool."

Hermione could only shake her head.

"But did you notice how they are dressed, Hermione?" he spoke suddenly. The girl looked at him curiously. "Those are Muggle clothes, right? You think they're even wizards?"

"Of course they are, Ron," she said in a smart tone like it was blindingly obvious. "There are anti-Muggle charms everywhere around the castle, after all. They wouldn't be able to get into Hogwarts if they weren't wizards. And have you forgotten the blue light at the teachers' table this morning? That had to be magic."

"So why are they dressed like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe they've been visiting London before they came here? Although..." She scrutinized the blonds. "Their outfits are a bit strange, but still awfully well-matched for wizards merely _pretending_ to be Muggles. Maybe they're Muggle-borns?"

"That makes sense." Ron nodded. "More than that speech about golden oceans and stuff, anyway."

"Oh, would you stop it already?!"

* * *

Alphonse looked around the Great Hall a little nervously. It seemed like every single person in the room was staring at him and Ed, unlike at breakfast, when students were too distracted to notice them – at least, before he transformed the pumpkin juice into orange. Now, all students were gawking at them as if they were some sort of exotic exhibit. It made him a lot uncomfortable.

Of course, he remembered the times when people were always gaping at him. A seven-feet-tall suit of armor, accompanied by the youngest State Alchemist (quite often mistaken for the said alchemist) attracted more attention than a circus parade. However, it was encouraging how his brother often told him that he was _not_ a freak, that they stared because he looked awesome.

Still, usually after clearing up which person of the duo was actually the Fullmetal Alchemist (with Edward screaming curses and attempting violence, which Al dutifully prevented as the more sensible of the brothers), the crowds didn't bother him as much as they did Edward. Ed cared nothing about the attention, no matter the good or the bad kind. Al tried to avoid it altogether, both because of his humble nature and shyness, as well as reasonable caution. They couldn't afford people finding out their secret, that Alphonse didn't have a body.

But that was a long time ago, and after the last five years of being **normal** again, Al got used to being inconspicuous. Well, _more_ inconspicuous, in any case. Some still regarded him and Ed like heroes sometimes. It felt kind of nice to be appreciated… just not too, well, _excessively_. Al didn't envy all those crazy fangirls or love letters Edward got.

The reason the attention of the students made Al nervous, was because he didn't know exactly **why**... No, no, he knew why, their clothes and appearances must have been strange for the people here. But Alphonse had no idea what they were _thinking_ , he didn't have enough knowledge of English culture to figure out what kind of conclusions they would draw. He could ask Ed, but was reluctant to do so. Brother would probably brush him off and tell him he worries too much.

It wasn't his fault, Al couldn't help it. His instincts were yelling at him as if he was about to be attacked, and the Chi-filled environment was forcing his Dragon Pulse sense to stay alert. He couldn't feel people emotions – Dragon Pulse didn't work like that – but the atmosphere was so full of them he could practically smell them: overwhelming curiosity, radiating mostly from the red-golden table, caution and apprehension, coming from the blue-bronze and yellow-black tables, and finally hostility, emitted by the green-silver table. Especially the cold looks of the green and silver colored table occupants were unnerving. What exactly did the two of them do to deserve such treatment? Or were English people generally unfriendly towards the foreigners?

"Al," Ed's voice interrupted his musings, "Are you okay?"

Alphonse blinked and looked at his brother's worried face. He must have spaced out.

"O-of course, Brother."

"What's wrong, Al? Tell me."

"It's not important."

"It's not _not_ _important_ ," Ed insisted. "You don't make an expression like that when 'it's not important'. Have you forgotten I can read every emotion on your face?"

Al ducked his head. Edward was right, he had experience with acting, not to mention he received professional military training. Even with his temper and impulsiveness typical for a teenager, he was way better at appearing casual when something was bothering him. Alphonse, on the other hand, had been pretty bad at hiding his emotions ever since he got his body back. Out of necessity of his cold, unfeeling body, he spent years trying to find more ways to express instead of concealing them. Now, as a result, hardly anything could slip past Ed.

"I-I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"The students… staring..."

Ed put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's fine, Al. They're just curious kids."

"I know, but it's not that. Do you… Do you think they don't like us very much?"

A frown creased his forehead as Ed turned to the crowd with a careful but stoic gaze. It slipped through the four tables, analyzing every face and every expression he could see. Most students who met his eyes quickly looked away, intimidated or ashamed of their actions. Some girls blushed, but Ed entirely ignored them. He was searching for whoever or whatever dared to bother his younger brother.

Eventually he found what he was looking for, and his frown deepened. The table of green and silver was filled with students with unfriendly eyes. Something in their expressions told Ed that it wasn't exactly personal, and he knew for certain he or Al hadn't done _anything_ to make them glare like that. There must have been something about their appearances they considered insulting, he realized.

"Um, Minerva?" he spoke, not looking away from the table. A boy he was currently looking at did not turn away. He was a skinny, pale blond with bluish-grey eyes. When he noticed Ed's stare, his glare only got bolder. There was also a condescending smirk on his lips.

 _Little bastard_ , Ed thought with resentment. Two seconds and he already disliked the boy from the bottom of his heart. This must have been some sort of a record. He struggled to remain impassive.

"What is it, Edward?"

"I've heard there are four Houses here… Ravenclaw, Griffindor, Bubblepluff-"

Minerva nearly chocked on her drink. "Hufflepuff." She coughed out.

"Yeah, sorry, whatever. Those three and Slytherin. Am I correct?"

"Yes...?"

"Would you mind telling me which one is that table with green and silver colors?"

"That's the Slytherin table. Professor Snape is the Head of the House." He couldn't see McGonagall's face, but he could hear disapproval in her voice. Apparently she didn't like this House very much either.

"I see." His eyes narrowed. The blond Slytherin boy started whispering something to his friends. They burst out laughing in a mean-sounding way, and Ed knew he just said something obscene about him. His blood boiled, he continued to speak in a completely calm manner: "I heard this House for people who are… ah… _ambitious_ and _cunning_ , is that right? Could you tell me a little more about it?"

"The Founder of this House, Salazar Slytherin, considered wizard heritage to be of utmost importance," she recited smoothly, clearly used to telling the stories about the Founders, after having to do so to every year at the beginning of the school. "He was more selective about students admitted to Hogwarts than the other three Founders. He believed magic learning should be kept within all magic families, in other words, pure-bloods."

"So, people who were born in ordinary – Muggle – families are not allowed in?" Al asked, surprised.

"Not in the Slytherin House, no, only pure-bloods or half-bloods can be admitted. But other Houses accept all students regardless of their heritage."

"I see..." Ed said again, nodding slowly.

He knew it, so it _was_ the clothes. They marked him and Alphonse as outsiders in this community. No wonder the Slytherin students seemed to dislike them so much. Stupid traditions drilled into their heads made them prejudiced. But prejudice, especially in the form of racism, as disgusting and wrong as it was, it wasn't necessarily the fault of those who practiced it.

It was a lot like with Ishvalans during the extermination. Even people as reasonable as Roy Mustang were forced to believe that Ishvalans were evil and needed to be wiped out. Mustang killed hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent civilians, but Ed didn't believe him to be a bad person. He was only following orders. Those who started the war and made those orders were to blame – the Homunculi.

Edward remembered the discussion he had with Nicolas about Muggles and wizards fighting each other. In his opinion, both sides were at fault, because Muggles didn't try to understand wizards, while wizards didn't seek peace with Muggles. Salazar Slytherin was probably one of those people who believed the two groups should live in total separation. It was sad, really, seeing how for (at least) six hundred years countless smart and talented wizards blindly followed his example, year after year, generation after generation. One would have thought that after a half of a millennium, people would come to their senses. Unfortunately, it seemed that it was not so – wasn't that war, which the Voldemort wizard started two decades ago, all about the same thing?

"It's not us, Al," he said quietly in Amestrian. Alphonse looked at him. "It's nothing we've done. We are 'Muggles' in their eyes, we're different. Aliens. That's all there is to it."

Understanding dawned on Al's features. He had a similar suspicion, but hearing it was still hurtful.

"What can we do about it?" he asked in a low voice, so only Ed could hear him.

Ed finally averted from the Slytherins and smiled at Al.

"You don't need to worry, Al. If they're smart, they'll get over it soon. If they won't… well, they'll have to deal with me."

Al smiled a little. What an over-protective big brother he had… although, it were moments like this one when he admired Ed the most.

"I think we should make an effort to blend in," the younger Elric said. "And that means…" Suddenly his smile turned into a smirk. "...robes. Starting tomorrow."

Ed made a disgruntled face and pouted.

"But Al…!"

"No, Brother, you are not getting out of this one," Al stated firmly. "We _have_ to wear them, at least until students leave the school. We don't want any trouble, do we? Minerva said the school year ends next week, so it's not like you'll have to wear them for too long."

Edward sighed with much irritation. Alphonse patted him on the arm, as if he was saying: _Good boy_.

Ed shot him a resentful look. _I'm only doing this because I have to_.

Al's raised eyebrow responded: _Yeah, keep telling yourself that Brother._

_I hate you._

_You love me._

_Of course. That's why I hate you._

Al grinned in amusement and the brothers resumed eating. Ed secretly smiled as well.

* * *

Their second night at Hogwarts was not a peaceful one.

Despite all the precautions Professor McGonagall made, negotiations with Bloody Baron and the efforts of the rest of the staff, Edward and Alphonse Elric finally – although unwillingly – got acquitted with the one person that everybody, teachers and students alike, warned them to avoid like plague, which he pretty much resembled. However the outcome of this encounter was not exactly what people would have expected.

Al was in deep sleep, while Ed stared at the ceiling lying on his bed, his mind unable to get any rest. So many things had happened in the last forty-eight hours that even though he was absolutely exhausted, there was no way for him to drift into unconsciousness. It was about three o'clock in the morning when he came.

Ed first sensed him before he actually saw him. He sat on the bed and started looking around, as he started experiencing the familiar, unpleasant sensation of being watched. He listened for a while, but nothing could be heard beside Al's peaceful breath and his own. Then suddenly, something moved under his bed, making a fluttering sound. Ed gritted his teeth. It were moments like this when he regretted he no longer had alchemy to defend himself. Who knows what kind of creature could be sneaking around their room in a place like this? McGonagall assured them there were no mortal threats in Hogwarts, but he had a hard time believing it for some reason.

He cautiously set his left, metal foot on the floor, and only after nothing happened for a minute or so, he put down the other one. Then he stood up. Then he kneeled on the floor. Then slowly, _slowly_ , cocked and lowered his head to get a look under the bed.

There was nothing there.

With relief, he released the breath he'd been holding and stood up, ready to lay back down on his bed. The problem was… it was already occupied.

There he was, in all of his absurd and ludicrous glory, a little man with black hair and wickedly slanted, orange eyes. He was dressed in loud, outlandish clothes, including a bell-covered hat and an orange bow tie. Lazily sprawled across the bed, he was leaning forward and grinning maliciously at Edward, his face only inches away from the once Fullmetal Alchemist's. There was no doubt who this cheeky creature was. Only one person in Hogwarts could match this description.

Peeves the Poltergeist.

Edward flinched and backed away, almost losing his balance. He pried himself later that he didn't scream.

"Oooooh, what do we have here?" Peeves cackled, delighted with his startled expression. "A blondie girl and her little brother, drooling like babies in their sleep?"

Ed let the insults slide. He did not want to wake Alphonse, unless it was absolutely necessary.

"What are you doing here, Peeves?" he whispered in an icy tone. "Get out!"

"So you've heard of me! I'm honored!" Peeves removed his hat. The bells made an obnoxiously-loud sound, making Ed angrier. The Poltergeist seemed determined to make as much noise as possible.

"Yeah, I've heard of you. Have ever heard about a thing called _privacy_? Get lost!" Ed hissed.

It seemed that Edward's frustration was only agitating the spirit more.

"Somebody's a _little_ cranky, ha ha! What's the matter, _tiny m_ _idget_?"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING-!" Ed abruptly stopped as Al hummed quietly in his sleep. The older Elric ran his hand over his hair. "Listen. I don't want to wake up my brother. Will you _please_ get out?"

"What will you give me if I do?" Peeves floated and made a flip in the air Ed blinked, but he shouldn't have been surprised. He was warned this creature could fly and become invisible, too.

"You won't get into trouble," he responded. "Now, I'm giving you ten seconds… Ten… Nine… Eight..."

Peeves blithely chewed a piece of raspberry gum.

"Seven… Six… Five… Four..."

The Poltergeist laid down in Edward's bed, making himself comfortable on his back. He watched Ed's ticking temple, obviously entertained.

"Three… Two… One..."

Peeved blew a bubble a popped it loudly.

' **CLANG!** ' - **CLANG!** ' - **CLANG!** ' - **CLANG!** ' - **CLANG!** '

' **ZAAAP!** '

Five Kunais suddenly hit the stone wall behind Peeves, and a flash of alchemical light erupted, blinding Ed. The Poltergeist screeched.

When the spots in Ed's vision disappeared, Peeves was trapped in a fist-shaped stone prison. Edward turned and saw Al, awake, kneeling on the flood with five more kunais pounded into the ground. A five-angle star was drawn inside of the alkahestry circle.

"What's going on?" Al was still a little dazed, apparently he only woke up several seconds ago. The fact that he was able to perform alkahestry while half-asleep was really impressive in Ed's opinion. May had trained him well. "Who's that?"

"It's Peeves," Ed explained. "The guy Minerva mentioned a couple of times."

"What is wrong with you, you're _crazy_!" Peeves managed to wriggle out of the stone, still possessing his ghost abilities. He was quite freaked out. The Poltergeist was as old as Hogwarts itself – even if he never acted like it – and he had never seen this kind of magic. He'd been completely caught off guard, and there weren't many things that could do that to the prankster spirit. He didn't like it.

"I told you not to wake him up," Ed told him smugly. "Sorry, Al."

"It's alright, Brother," Alphonse assured him, putting his hand to his mouth to hide a yawn.

"Party-pooper! Crazy freak, can't take a joke!" Peeves yelled.

Suddenly Ed's face turned crimson. A furious look appeared in his eye.

"Just _what_ did you _say_ about my little brother...?" he asked slowly, his golden orbs glowing with dangerous fire.

* * *

Minerva was woken up by an echo of a loud scream, resounding in the walls. She recognized it as the voice of Edward Elric.

" _ **HOW DARE YOU CALL MY BROTHER A FREAK, YOU SICK ABOMINATION OF THE GATE!**_ "

The transfiguration Professor sighed. Just when she was going to finally have a chance to get some sleep?

She put on her dressing-gown in haste and hurried to the Elric brothers' chamber. When she opened the door, she witnessed quite a scene.

The room was a mess. There was a lot of rubble on the floor, and there was a giant stone hand sticking out the wall above Edward's bed. The said man was running around like a Madman, swinging his fist in rage and trying to whack Peeves, while the Poltergeist avoided him like inferno. Judging from a black eye on Peeves' face, Ed actually hit his target at least once. Which was quite surprising for the Professor, considering that Poltergeists could become intangible like ghosts at will. Either Edward was really fast, or the mischievous spirits hadn't been paying enough attention. No one, not even the Weasley twins, had ever got to him like that.

At the same time, Alphonse stood aside, looking a little helpless. He shrugged at her and said apologetically:

"I'm so sorry for this, Minerva, we didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright, no need to apologize," she told him, doing her best to sound patient and understanding. Which was a hard task with Peeves and Edward running and yelling around.

"I tried to calm him down, but it didn't work..."

"Peeves?"

"Brother," Al pointed at Ed, who attempted to grab Peeves by his ear, but it didn't work, as his hand went straight through him.

" **YOU GHOSTS ARE SUCH REVOLTING COWARDS WHO CAN'T EVEN FACE TRUTH! MY BROTHER HAS A MILLION TIMES MORE GUTS THAN YOU, AND YOU DARE TAINT HIS NAME!** "

"What the heck do you want from me?! You're insane, both of you!" Peeves flew out of the room.

Ed ran after him.

" **GET BACK HERE YOU DISGUSTING CREATURE, I'M GOING TO DRAG YOU STRAIGHT TO THE GATE AND THROUGH IT IF I HAVE TO!** "

The screams echoes in the entire castle. McGonagall stood in place, speechless. Alphonse sighed.

"Brother can be a little… over-protective sometimes," he explained wearily. "We're lucky he's not using his alchemy, otherwise this entire place would have been down in ten minutes flat..." Alphonse omitted the fact that Ed _couldn't_ use alchemy, but it wasn't important right now.

Minerva stared at the younger Elric with a dumbfounded expression.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side."

Al nodded. "Notified."

* * *

The next day, as well as the rest of the week, Ed avoided students as much as possible. The whole Hogwarts heard his past-midnight confrontation with Peeves. The few witnesses, who saw the Poltergeist running for his life, started spreading rumors that Edward was a demon, capable of taking down any ghost with no magic but fists alone. It wasn't really true, Ed only got one good punch on the trickster spirit's face before he turned intangible, but it was enough for gossipers. Some students were genuinely scared of him now, however most were only more curious and wanted to bother him with stupid questions, which Ed could really live without.

The most stubborn ones were two identical redheads, twin brothers, tall, skinny, freckled and unbelievably annoying. Especially their questions were the most ludicrous.

"What's your name, mate? Are you really a demon?"

"Are you the evil type or the mischievous type? Because, we're _both_!"

"Is your brother a demon too?

"Can you turn into a dragon?"

"I heard that you can breathe fire, mate, is that true?"

What made the problem worse was that now, with not only Nearly Headless Nick, but also Peeves the Poltergeist both being terrified of Edward, he gained a fearsome reputation among the rest of ghosts of Hogwarts. If it had been just Peeves, it would have been fine, but the fact that Nearly Headless Nick didn't dare to get close to the brothers made other ghosts believe there was something really wrong with the Elrics. Ed enjoyed his 'evil' reputation in Amestris once, but he didn't want to be considered a demon in a _literal_ sense.

 _This place is really_ _asinine_ , he thought with exasperation.

What only vexed Ed was that only yesterday, he and Al talked about how important it was to blend in and not attract attention. Well, they could bid farewell to _that_ idea. And Alphonse was **not** happy.

"Listen Al, I'm sorry, okay?"

"You should have thought it through before you blew all out on the Poltergeist, Brother."

"Come on, I said I was sorry…!"

"That doesn't change your punishment."

"Do I really have to-?"

"Yes."

"Gah! It wasn't my fault, okay? It was him who first sneaked up on us!"

"And you woke up the whole school with your yelling. Honestly, Brother, I would have expected you to be more mature than this."

"He called you a freak!"

"So what? That doesn't excuse your behavior. Now, stop complaining and put on the robe already!"

As his punishment, Ed was forced to wear wizard robes at all times from now on. Even when he and Alphonse were alone. And he could do nothing about it.

"Alright, but as soon as the school year is over, I'm not wearing these rags ever again!"

"Doesn't matter, hopefully we'll figure out a way back home soon. Right now, let's try to appear at least a _little_ bit normal here."

Ed quickly got sick of the students' stares and gossiping, so he asked McGonagall if it was possible to have their meals in their room. Luckily, she agreed.

"A house-elf is going to provide you food and anything else you need. All you need to do is ask."

Speaking of which, that was another thing the brothers only started getting used to... **chimeras**.

Alright, so they knew they weren't real chimeras. They weren't created with alchemy. But despite their obvious ability to think and talk like humans, the house-elves barely resembled human beings. They were short, between two and three feet tall, with spindly arms and legs and over-sized heads and eyes. They also had pointed, bat-like ears and high, squeaky voices. In spite their obvious intelligence and even ability to perform magic, they didn't wear robes, or any decent clothes for that matter. They covered their bodies with rags, which were, from what Ed and Al observed, dirty pillowcases or towels.

Al was itching to help them, but Edward knew they shouldn't. Every minute they spent in this world showed how little they knew about laws and norms here. The couple of house-elves they spoke with seemed to be very happy with their jobs despite their living conditions. When asked if they had ever been human, they responded with pride that "Oh no, Master Elric, we've always been House Elves, like our ancestors, and we shall always be House Elves."

 _I think it's better if we meddle with another word's affairs as little as possible…_ Ed thought. _We already have a country to worry about, don't we? We shouldn't get too much involved. We're not going to stay here for long, anyway._

They worked as hard as they could. In a few of days, Alphonse started understand basic English and he refused to have the translation spell re-casted on him after it had worn off. Ed couldn't be more proud of his little brother.

Seeing a world where everybody used magic technique opened their eyes on many things. Especially about Izumi's teachings, back when they studies alchemy. Teacher warned them to use alchemy only as their last resort, never simply for convenience – it made the alchemists forget what was truly important in life. "All is one, one is all." Nothing came without a price. The greatest Truth.

Here, it seemed, people believed in the exact opposite. Everything was easy. Everything was free. Everything came without effort. Everything could be solved with a wave of a wand. At least, that's what it looked like. But Ed still remembered the look that ghost gave him when he asked what exactly he had to give up when he faced the Gate.

_There is always a price. I know there is a price for magic. The question is, **what** is it?_

That was exactly the answer they were looking for. The got through book after book, but couldn't find anything. Wizards didn't know. They simply accepted the world as it was, never questioning anything.

 _Their foolishness and_ _gullibility_ _are mortifying_ , he thought as he read a book about transfiguration. A skilled witch or a wizard could easily transform a desk into a pig, a bird into a cup, or a snail into a pebble, and yet _nobody_ questioned where that life came from, or where it disappeared to. It wasn't even killing the animals – no, it was more like erasing its existence altogether, with no trace left. That kind of power could be so misused, and there were no moral warnings attached to those instructions.

Doubts and questions were buzzing in his brain like a beehive. Why? Where? How? He soon realized that to figure out magic, he and Al were going to need wands to perform experiments. They didn't want to do transfiguration – they promised each other to avoid it unless it was absolutely necessary – but without them, they were going to hit a dead end very soon. A mere demonstration from Minerva (they'd never asked her though) wouldn't be enough. They had to experience magic, just like alchemy. Nothing would come out of it without practice. They needed to _feel_ it to really understand it, to reach the truth.

And that is why on their forth day of stay at Hogwarts, they went to visit the Headmaster.

"Good morning, Professor," said Alphonse when McGonagall lead them into his office. Edward added his less formal greeting:

"Hello, Double Door."

"Ah, Edward, Alphonse!" Dumbledore said happily. "What a pleasant surprise! I was about to send you an invitation for a cup of tea. Come, sit down. Would you like a to join us, Minerva? Lemon drop?"

"No thank you, Headmaster," she replied stiffly. "I'm afraid I have a class to attend to."

"Of course, of course. Are you sure you don't want one?"

" **No thank you.** "

"Oh, very well. Enjoy your class, Minerva."

Professor McGonagall sent him an incredulous look, saying: _Are you really expecting me to?_ And she left.

The Elrics and Dumbledore sat at a small three-legged tea table. There was a tea set, cake and some candy in a jar.

"How about you, Alphonse?" the Headmaster asked kindly. "You look like a young man who truly appreciates the value of good quality candy. Lemon drop?"

"Um, thank you…?" Al slowly accepted the candy, silently wondering if the Professor wasn't a bit insane. Ed had come to that conclusion a long time ago.

"Before you ask, **no** , I _don't_ want one, thanks," the older Elric said sternly. "We came here because we have two questions for you."

"Naturally." Albus Dumbledore smiled and his eyes twinkled merrily. "Ask away."

"First, how is your search for Nicolas going?"

"I'm afraid I don't have any news for you yet, but-"

Ed's fist collided with the desk loudly.

"Just **what** are you doing then?" his voice raised in volume. "We're stuck sitting here, waiting, because we _trust you_ to find him, and you-!"

"If I remember correctly, you said you don't trust me," Albus remarked with mirth.

"I don't! But we don't have any choice, do we?"

"Brother..." Al sighed. He was starting to regret his decision of giving up the translation spell. He could barely keep up with the conversation at this rate, and he knew Ed wasn't the best diplomat.

"You said we have only two months, and it's been almost a week now! Time is running out, we can't just stall and do nothing! So I'm asking you, just what are you doing?!"

"I'm doing everything I can, Edward, I assure you."

"Like **what**?"

"I've contacted many friends and accountancies of mine who are searching for Nicolas as we speak. My guess the reason we can't find him right now is that he's probably in an unavailable location, perhaps under the Fidelius Charm."

"Fidelius…?" Ed murmured, then his eyes widened in recognition. "You mean that spell with a 'Secret Keeper'…?"

"You've hear of it?"

"We've read it in a book yesterday."

"How many books have you two read already?" the Headmaster asked with genuine curiosity.

"I've lost count," he shrugged. "You'll have to ask Minerva."

"Hmm, interesting. I can tell you have impressive memory, Edward. I believe Alphonse as well?"

"Of course!" Ed boasted, giving Al a proud look. "He's learned enough English already to get around without the ' _A_ _uribus aureum_ _'_ spell."

"Is that right? You boys never cease to amaze me."

"Thank you, Professor, that is very kind of you to say," Al spoke in English with a thick accent, but we was doing a great job, considering he hadn't talked in the language to anyone yet, except Ed while they were practicing.

"You're welcome, Alphonse. Now," he turned to Edward "What's your second question?"

"We were wondering were we could get wands to practice with," he said. "Is it possible for us to get one or two?"

Instead of replying, the Headmaster stood up and walked up to his desk. He put out a small handkerchief.

"What is that?" Al asked curiously.

"A Portkey to a place called Diagon Alley," Dumbledore told them cheerfully. "It is a place when we can purchase wands for you two. I suspected you'd ask me sooner or later, so I prepared it in advance. Since I'm not particularly busy today, I believe it we don't need to waste any time."

Ed could only blink to that. "Just like that?"

"Indeed."

"We're just going to go to that Diagon Alley _now_?"

"You have any objections?"

"...no," he admitted.

"Go on, then. Just grab on."

Ed and Al exchanged bewildered looks. They hadn't expected this to be so easy.

Carefully, each took a corner of the handkerchief. They knew Portkeys were used for transportation, but they weren't certain how they worked. If they remember correctly form 'Wizardry Ways of Wandering the World', this wasn't going to be a pleasant experience. They waited for several awkward seconds, waiting for _something_ to happen.

Suddenly, both Edward and Alphonse felt a sharp tug in their stomachs, and then the whole world started spinning with incredible speed. They felt dizzy and were tempted to let the handkerchief go, but they were determined not to lose it. When it was all over, they swayed and could barely keep themselves on their feet, but remained standing nevertheless – which they considered a success. All the times Teacher tried to knock them down had paid off, it seemed.

"Hmmm… You took it very well, considering it was your first time with a Portkey," Dumbledore mused.

 _Yes, but I definitely don't want to got through this ever again_ , Ed thought, despite the fact he knew they would have to return to Hogwarts the same way. He'd rather not think about it, if he wanted to keep his breakfast in his stomach.

They were standing in a dark and shabby place, which Ed quickly recognized to be a pub. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of some alcohol. There was a number of tables in the shadows of the corners, a wooden staircase leading somewhere, and a bar with an old, not exactly handsome barman behind it. To put it bluntly, he was bald and looked like a gummy walnut. Ed couldn't help but snicker at the thought.

"Ah, Dumbledore!" the barman greeted Dumbledore jovially. "The usual?"

"No thank you, Tom," the Headmaster replied politely. "We are in a hurry, perhaps another time."

"Come stop by sometime soon, alright?" he called as the three exited the pub.

"What was that place?" Alphonse asked, puzzled.

Albus casually pointed at the sign above the door. It was old and faded, but it still clearly read, ' _The Leaky Cauldron_.'

"The Leaky Cauldron? Seriously?" Ed deadpanned. "What's up with wizards and those weird names? Who names a pub after a leaking liquid container? That makes no sense… Actually, isn't that title self-insulting?"

Dumbledore chuckled.

"I agree that some ideas in the Wizarding World are a bit… odd. But, I think there's simple joy in indulging the eccentric ways. Sometimes you need to take things less seriously, Edward. You're young, you should enjoy yourself as long as you can."

Al understood and nodded, giving his brother a meaningful look. Ed pretended he couldn't see it, but he knew what the crazy old geezer and his little brother were trying to tell him. It was true that sometimes, he got so absorbed by his goals that he forgot to enjoy simple things in life. It got better, after he got Al's body back like he promised, but he still tended to lose himself in plans, studies and work. If it wasn't Al's care, or Winry's wrathful wrenches, one day he might just have starved himself to death in front of his books and not notice. He could freely admit that he was very grateful to have such wonderful people, to remind him about those 'simple things' and care for him.

They arrived in front of a wall. Ed had to look around, to make sure they were in the right place: everything was trying to convince him that this was a dead end. But he remembered that he had felt similar sensation, when he face Nicolas Flamel's illusion on the door in the West City State Alchemist Library. He looked at the Headmaster expectantly.

Dumbledore pulled out a wand and tapped a brick, and suddenly, the wall started moving. Ed and Al jumped backwards on reflex, but quickly dropped their fighting stances when all it did was opening an entrance. Albus noted their behavior with a watchful eye. If he had suspicions before, he was now convinced that those boys had received some sort of combat training. It would have explained their ever-cautious attitudes, not to mention what had happened to the Poltergeist – even the Headmaster heard about the confrontation between Edward and Peeves. It was quite a tale! Albus promised himself to ask about that earlier, it would surely be an entertaining story to hear.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley!" he said merrily, making an inviting gesture. The Elrics passed the entrance and stood there for a moment, absorbing their new environment with shock and awe.

The street was full of people in robes of every color imaginable, buzzing and rushing, talking and arguing, selling and advertising… There were shops everywhere, some selling telescopes, others strange silver instruments they had never seen before, let alone imagined. Some glittering windows were stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, next to displays of tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon, colorful, cauldrons and all the nonsensical magic equipment Ed only read about in books, but he never actually believed to be used on regular basis. And Edward had thought Hogwarts was crazy.

For once Ed was happy that the Professor was being their guide: people clearly recognized him and moved out of the way, although they did cast curious looks. A person or two tried to make a conversation, but Dumbledore politely declined every time, repeating what he had told Tom the barman.

"Thanks, old man," Ed told him quietly as they approached a narrow, shabby place called ' _Ollivanders_ '. Which apparently was a wand shop, because peeling golden letters beneath the name claimed: ' _Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C_.'. Whatever 'B. C.' meant, it certainly seemed like it referred to 'a long time ago'. "I don't like people standing around and waste time on chatting, so I appreciate it."

"I thought so, Edward, and you're welcome," Albus told him with a knowing smile and opened the door.

The display consisted of a solitary wand, lying on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. The shop itself was tiny, empty except for a single, spindly chair in the corner. Thousands of narrow boxes containing wands were piled right up to the ceiling of the tiny room, and the whole place was covered in a thin layer of dust. Alphonse sneezed.

"Good morning," said a soft voice. Suddenly an old man was appeared in front of them out of nowhere, making the Elrics twitch in surprise. How did the man do it?! It had to be some sort of magic.

For a long, uncomfortable moment he just stared at them, his his wide, pale silvery eyes, shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hmmm… Hmmm..."

He scrutinized the brothers, especially their golden eyes, and a look of curiosity formed in his old features.

"I don't believe I've ever sold you wands before," he said. "Interesting. Neither do I recognize you."

 _What an odd way to say that_ , Al thought. _Putting 'I don't recognize you'_ _ **after**_ _'I've never sold you anything'_. _Maybe it's a wand-salesman thing?_

Mr. Ollivander moved closer. Al was tempted to blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy, but he would not be intimidated.

"Hmmm… No, not familiar at all. You don't forget such eyes easily," he said quietly. "You've been through a lot, haven't you?"

Alphonse couldn't help but make a shocked expression. How did the man know? Was it really that obvious?

"It would appear it is the same with your brother..." the man continued, turning to Edward. The older Elric narrowed his eyes, as if challenging him. "But it made a bigger impression on him, it seems..."

"Who are _you_ to judge our past?" Ed asked sharply, crossing his arms. He didn't like the man very much. He was making him uncomfortable, acting like he could peer into his soul.

"Oh no, Mr…?"

"Elric. Edward Elric."

"And I'm Alphonse Elric."

"Mr. Elric, I certainly am no person to judge. A man's past is his own problem, and I respect your privacy," he assured them. "I was merely making an observation."

"Well, you can keep your ' _observations_ ' to yourself," Ed told him rudely.

"Brother..."

"Of course, of course," the man didn't seem offended. "I'm Mr. Ollivander. What can I do for you, Mr. Elric?"

"We're here for wands." The tone itself added, "Obviously."

"Both of you?" He didn't look surprised, but he seemed to get even more curious. "What happened to your previous ones?"

"Never had them before. We're from a different country, couldn't get them there."

"Hungary," Al supplied, sticking to their cover story.

"Hungary, eh?" Mr. Ollivander smiled slightly. "I have a relative there. A good man. His wands have always been excellent. I used to be jealous of his skills when I was younger. We Ollivanders had been making wands for generations in our family. We have shops all over Europe."

There was an awkward silence. Ed and Al exchanged perplexed looks. Ollivander kept that small smile on his face, waiting for them to respond. Dumbledore wasn't being very helpful either. He seemed to be fascinated by the dusty window pane all of a sudden.

Ed finally released a long, resigned sigh. "...Alright, you got us. We're not from Hungary."

Mr. Ollivander chuckled. "No need to worry, Mr. Elric. I keep all the information about my clients confidential."

"You are not going to ask us where are we really from?" Alphonse said, surprised.

"Like I said, Mr. Elric, a man's past is his own problem. Now, who shall be the first?"

"You go ahead, Brother," Al said before Ed opened his mouth. "You're probably going to choose faster than me."

Ed shrugged. It didn't really matter.

"Which one is your wand hand?"

"I'm ambidextrous," he said without hesitation.

"Which one you prefer?"

Ed thought about it, then showed his right hand. Saying that he 'preferred' this one would be correct, albeit not for reasons people would expect. His right arm was a gift from his brother, returned by Alphonse with the cost of his own soul. It was, truly, very precious to him.

"Hold it out, please." He measured Ed from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. A magical tape, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. For the sake of his sanity Ed decided not to question it. As Mr. Ollivander measured, he spoke, "Every wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Elric, did you know that?"

"No."

"We Ollivanders use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

"I used other people's wands before," Ed responded. "It worked."

"Naturally it worked, however, you will be much more powerful with a wand of your own, Mr. Elric. A wand forms a bond with it's rightful user, which amplifies his or her magic. It is always the wand who chooses, not the wizard."

Ed blinked twice. "Wait. Are you saying that wands are _sentient_?"

"Wand-lore is a powerful, mysterious art, Mr. Elric."

"That's all you're going to say?!" Edward huffed. "Why do wizards always avoid my questions?! It's because you don't know yourself, is that it? Are you just going along with it, never questioning how those things are possible or why they happen?"

"You have a sharp mind and inquiring nature, Mr. Elric," Mr. Ollivander said calmly. "I'm certain you'll achieve many great things. That will do," the last sentence was directed to the tape measure, which instantly crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Elric. Try this one. Ash wood and dragon heartstring. Seven inches. Flexible. Just give it a wave."

Ed took it from Mr. Ollivander and gave it a careful wave, remembering what happened the first time he held a wand in his hand.

Nothing happened.

Ed frowned, and waved again, faster this time. Still no effect. He looked at Mr. Ollivander. The man looked baffled.

"Um… Is this a good or a bad thing?" he asked, uncertain.

Mr. Ollivander didn't say anything at first. He simply took the wand from him, gave it a careful, confused look, and put it away. Then he pulled another one out of a different box.

"Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy." His voice sounded a little tense. It made Edward even more uneasy. Something was wrong, but what?

Al was looking between them nervously. What was going on?

Ed tried the new wand, but it also didn't seem to work. He pointed at a random box and said:

" _Wingardium Leviosa_."

Nothing. No sensation of energy, no feeling of magic.

"Are you sure it's not… broken?" he said, but he didn't really believe it.

"What's going on, Brother?" Al finally asked in Amestrian, worried.

"I have no clue! It just doesn't work!" Ed responded, utterly confused.

Dumbledore only now turned his attention back to them, curious what was causing the brothers such distress.

Ed stared at the wand in his hand, contemplating. Why didn't it work? Mr. Ollivander's expression told him without a doubt this has never happened before. Was it him? Was it the wand?

"Forgive me for saying this, but… are you _sure_ you're a wizard, Mr. Elric?" Mr. Ollivander finally spoke with reluctance.

Dumbledore blinked, clearly surprised by this turn of events as well.

"I'm convinced Edward is, in fact, a wizard," he said. "He casted a spell right in front of me. There was no mistake."

Ed frowned, thinking hard. Did he do anything differently than usual? Finally it struck him.

"I think I know what the problem is..." he said carefully. "Every time I picked up a wand before, I did it with my left hand. It's… an unconscious habit, I guess. But when given a choice, I use my right." He switched hands, paused for a moment and finally, waved.

Immediately, half of the boxes in the shop loudly tumbled on the floor. Ed cringed. He had been _trying_ to avoid this!

"Sorry, sorry!" he said quickly, but Mr. Ollivander paid no mind to the mess. His eyes were focused his hand, a thoughtful look entering his faces.

"Hmmm… Curious, curious indeed..." he said.

"What?" Ed asked suspiciously. "Look I'm sorry for telling you the wrong hand, I didn't know there was a-"

"Oh it's not a problem, Mr. Elric. It's just really curious."

"What exactly is so 'curious'?" Alphonse inquired, relieved that the wand had eventually worked.

"When a wizard uses a wand with the wrong hand, it's usually less effective. Just like most people write better with their right hand instead of their left. But I've never seen such sharp difference, a wizard with one hand so much powerful, that the other's incapable of casting magic at all. It is very interesting."

Now, Ed felt _really_ uncomfortable. Was there something wrong with him? Was it because he was from a different world? Or because he trained him left arm much more than his right in the past? Or maybe because he used to have automail in his right arm's place?

Mr. Ollivander didn't say anything more, but Ed could tell he was still thinking about it, from the cryptic glances he sent in his direction from time to time. He continued giving him wands to try out, each time giving a description.

"Mahogany and phoenix feather. Ten inches. Whippy. Excellent for transfiguration and advanced charms."

Ed winced in his mind. He did _not_ want a wand like that. Luckily, the wand didn't seem to like him either, because a lamp exploded when he barely gave it a twitch.

"Sorry…!"

"It's all fine, Mr. Elric, don't worry about it. Cedar and dragon string, twelve inches. Unyielding. Stubborn, but powerful."

No, that one didn't like him either. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair in the corner, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

 _Somebody is having fun_ , Ed thought wearily when he was given the twentieth wand.

"Maple and unicorn hair. Nine inches. Pliable. Very steady and reliable with complicated magic."

This wasn't right either, at least according to Mr. Ollivander – because Edward and Alphonse had honestly no idea what he was waiting for to happen. Sometimes Ed had hardly raised the wand when it was snatched back by the old man. The shop was getting more and more chaotic with all the magic Ed accidentally used, he even managed to catch a shelf on fire, but Mr. Ollivander was totally unconcerned. _He can probably easily fix everything with magic_ , Ed reasoned.

"Beech and phoenix feather. Eight inches. Springy. Lustrous and quite powerful, but capable of subtlety."

Finally, something was different, he knew it the moment he grabbed the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, energy reminiscent of an alchemical reaction. The familiarity made him inwardly shiver. _Oh dear Truth_ , he had missed alchemy _so much_ , he realized. He raised the wand above his head, then brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red, gold and blue sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Al gasped in wonder.

"Yes, yes, this is it!" Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands with enthusiasm. "We've found a match."

Edward regarded his new wand with interest. Now he understood the difference of owning a wand and using somebody else's – the feeling was completely incomparable, and he hadn't even tried any magic with it yet. Strangely, the wand really _did_ feel alive under his fingertips. He smirked, having found another mystery to solve in this strange world.

"Now it's your turn, Mr. Elric," Mr. Ollivander turned his attention to Alphonse. "Which is your wand hand?"

"Right… I think."

The old wand-maker took his measurements and pulled out one of the wands Ed preciously tried.

"Maple and unicorn hair, nine inches."

Al took a nervous breath and waved the wand.

But nothing happened.

Another moment of unsettling silence stretched. Ed grew anxious. Was his little brother going to have the same problem?

"Are you ambidextrous too, Mr. Elric?" Mr. Ollivander didn't seemed surprised this time.

"Actually, no," Al said, giving Ed a quick look. "It's only Brother. Should I try the other hand?"

"Go ahead."

Al switched hands and tried again and... nothing.

Ed felt a lump form in his throat. This wasn't good, was it. Mr. Ollivander frowned. He didn't look like he knew why this was happening either. Professor Dumbledore seemed extremely intrigued.

"So..." Al spoke, interrupting the silence. "What should I do?"

"I have never encountered a case like this one," Mr. Ollivander confessed. "I regret to inform you that I have absolutely no idea."

The Elric brothers looked at each other.

"Well, let's look at the bright side!" Al suddenly said, surprising Ed with his happy tone. "At least you got a wand!"

"But Al, why is this happening?" Ed was very serious. "Why can't I use a wand with my right hand? Why can't you use one with neither hand?"

"Perhaps Mr. Alphonse Elric is a Muggle," Mr. Ollivander gently suggested.

"That can't be," Albus shook his head firmly, denying the possibility. "Both of them are alchemists, and alchemy is a very difficult kind of magic. It's impossible."

"Alchemy is **not** magic!" Alphonse protested.

"Yeah, they're two completely different things!" The older Elric was indignant. "If it were the same, then I-" he stopped abruptly. Telling them his secret was not a good idea, they didn't need to know about how he gave up his Gate. From his understanding, the wizards didn't even know about its existence. "It's not the same at all," he finished. "I don't understand... If one of us was to be unable to use magic, it should be me, not Al. This makes no sense."

"Maybe Mr. Ollivander is right, maybe I'm just a Muggle," Al didn't seem upset about it. He lowered his voice and said quietly in Amestrian: "Don't worry about me, Brother, I don't need magic. I have alchemy, don't I? I think it's Equivalent Exchange."

"How is this Equivalent Exchange?" Ed asked, pretty saddened by the fact that Alphonse was denied the ability of performing magic. This was not fair, this was not equivalent.

"You can use magic, I can use alchemy," Al told him amicably. "Together, he have all the resources we need to study both and combine them. You've lost something, but you got something in return. It wouldn't be equal if I could use magic."

"Are you saying that I gained the ability because you don't have it?! But I gave up my Gate out of my own free will! You shouldn't be punished for it!" Ed exclaimed loudly.

"I wasn't punished, Brother, you've been rewarded… or at least, that's my theory."

"I can't accept this," Ed argued, but he was giving up. If Al wasn't born with magic abilities, there really was nothing he could do.

"Alphonse," Dumbledore suddenly spoke, interrupting their private conversation. "Have you seen any ghosts around the Hogwarts castle?"

"Huh? Yes, I did. Why?"

"Mr. Ollivander is mistaken, then. You see, Muggles are incapable of seeing ghosts."

Both Elrics froze, surprised.

"Wait. You lost me. Is Al a Muggle or not?" Ed asked, completely confused.

"I don't have a certain answer to that," the Professor said carefully. "But my best guess at the moment is that younger Mr. Elric is a Squib."

"A Squib? What's a Squib?"

"It's a person born in a magic family, but without the ability to cast magic. It very rarely happens, but it's possible."

"So, what's the difference then?" Ed inquired impatiently.

"Squibs have some of magical abilities, like seeing magical creatures and resistance against anti-Muggle spell," Dumbledore explained. "But they can't use wands. They're not Muggles, but they're not wizards, either."

"I'm a Squib, then?" Al asked for confirmation. The Professor merely shrugged. Alphonse looked at his older brother and smiled sweetly. "It's okay. I don't mind. Brother can use magic, so we're going to be fine."

"Al..." Ed sighed. This wasn't fair at all, why wasn't Al upset about this? His little brother was always so forgiving and accepting.

"I'm fine, Brother, really."

Ed closed his eyes, then nodded. It wasn't something he could fix. They had to manage with what they had. But, it still felt incorrect, disappointing. He opened his eyes eventually and looked at Dumbledore.

"This doesn't mean Al can't be at Hogwarts anymore, does it?"

"Of course he can," the Professor assured him warmly. "Both of you are still welcome to stay. It wouldn't matter even if your Brother really was a Muggle, Edward."

Edward's shoulders slumped in relief.

"Good," he breathed out.

* * *

_**Filling plot-holes and explaining the unexplained** _

**1.** **Cruciatus Curse**

**We all know the three infamous Unforgivable Curses. ' _Imperio_ ', the controlling curse. ' _Crucio_ ', the torturing curse. And ' _Avada Kedavra_ ', the killing curse. Oh, such terrible, terrible spells. No protection against them, no way of escape, untraceable. For casting one there's a life sentence in Azkaban. Terrible indeed! Those who use them are truly Despicable and Evil!**

**...except the fact that Harry casted two of those curses and he was totally forgiven, just because! Our "love-is-the-greatest-power" protagonist, ladies and gentleman! :P**

**But I'm not here to judge Harry's actions in Book 7, I'm here to talk about Cruciatus Curse specifically. Many Voldemort supporters, especially, Bellatrix Lestrange, like using this spells for interrogations and… uh.. entreatment. I'm not a psycho, so I'm not going to analyze why they'd enjoy using it – even though Harry's absolutely horrifying remark is still haunting my brain:**

" ** _I see what Bellatrix meant, you need to really mean it._ " - Harry after using ' _Crucio_ ' on Amycus Carrow**

**Seriously, what kind of _good guy_ would say such a thing?!**

**But I digress.**

**Even from scientific perspective, this curse makes perfect sense.** **It's** **possible** **to** **affect** **the** **nervous** **system, f** **or example with drugs, to make somebody experience extreme pain, even though he or she is not injured.**

**Prolonged exposure to Cruciatus Curse can cause insanity.** **How does it cause insanity, you ask? We have two examples in the books, both of Neville Longbottom's parents. They had been tortured by Bellatrix until they lost their minds forever. They weren't 100% numb vegetables though, because they interacted a little bit with their son – Neville's mother continued giving him wrappers in the hospital and he kept them (which is very sad and sweet). So how did that happen?**

**Well, I'm no expert on human anatomy, but I'm pretty sure playing with the brain nerve connections – which is what Cruciatus Curse is doing – for an extended period of time (like, a couple of days or a week) can damage something in a way that's unrecoverable. One unfortunate concussion can cause permanent damage, so why ' _Crucio_ ' wouldn't be able to do the same?**

**Now, it's important to point out that it's not what this is supposed to do. ' _Crucio_ ' is designed to cause pain without any side-effects. My guess is that Bellatrix was enjoying torturing the Longbottoms a little too much, and eventually let the spell lose. Yes, what happened to them was, in fact, an accident. Not that Bellatrix regretted it, of course.**

**Those are my thoughts on ' _Crucio_ ', anyway.**

**2\. Magic of Love, Lily's Blood Wards for Harry**

**Oooh, what a sweet topic! How did Dumbledore put it? Oh, right:**

" ** _Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good._ "**

**Dumbledore, although in a very vague way, is basically saying that love is a kind of magic. In fact _very_ powerful magic, more powerful than Voldemort's hard-worked dark forces he so carefully gathered and crafted. A mere touch of this cheesy-sounding 'Power of Love' utterly destroyed him, turned him into dust.**

**The power isn't actually from Harry, but Lily. Apparently she was a very loving mom, and a very talented, powerful witch. Before she died, she casted a spell on her son that would protect him for long years. Now, was it intentional or unintentional?**

**My bet it that it was all intentional, and Lily Evans was actually a magical genius, much more enlightened about the true nature of magic than most wizards and witches. There were several steps involved in the process of the protection she put on Harry.**

**1) She made preparations. Yes, I think she suspected her family might be in danger in advance. Why wouldn't she? She and her husband escaped Voldemort _three times_. That's quite a lot of near-death experiences, wouldn't you agree?**

**2) She set a target in her mind. Between her son and husband, she chose Harry. It might sound a bit selfish, but she knew James would rather die with her than live without his wife and child, knowing that they had been sacrifices for his safety.**

**3) She focused on blood-relations. The spell was specifically designed to protect Harry through his blood relatives, that being her sister. I'll get back to the wards later.**

**4) She selected a sacrifice – her own life. She could have used someone else, as long as the condition was met: love for Harry. So technically, the spell would have worked with James dying for his son. But of course, Lily wouldn't do that, she loved James too.**

**5) And finally, she paid the price. She willingly exposed herself to ' _Avada Kedavra_ ' curse, fully realizing she was going to die. The exposure itself is the price though, not death – because Harry did the same thing in book 7 and he didn't die after all, and yet it worked.**

**Now, the Blood Wards are quite easy to explain. It was basically a Fidelius Charm, but without a Secret Keeper. Sort of like the Room or Requirements – Neville was able to wish for it to be unavailable for people working for the Carrows. Lily's Blood Ward didn't allow anybody on the Dursleys property who worked for Voldemort, plain and simple. But it only worked as long as the blood-relative of Harry's (that being Mrs. Petunia Dursley) was responsible for him, carrying the magic of the Ward Lily had set. It couldn't work longer than that, because Petunia… didn't love Harry. If she did, it could have been easily extended, but oh well. Petunia hated Lily too much to care about her nephew. That's really sad when you think about it…**

**Anyway, the protection on Harry made Voldemort unable to touch him – example of Quirrel, who dropped dead when he tried. So yes, Dumbledore meant it quite literally when he said that ' _It_ _'_ _s agony to touch a person marked by something so good._ ' He managed to bypass this obstacle, by making Harry's blood a part of his body, but it was very stupid of him at the same time. He unknowingly strengthened the bond between himself and his Horcrux, making him even more resistant to Voldemort influence, and Voldemort himself – more vulnerable.**

**Love is freaking powerful, maaan! ;D**

**So in the end of book 7, Harry used the same method as his mother to protect people in Hogwarts. However, he missed a couple of steps, so it wasn't nearly as powerful. He didn't make preparations, he didn't set a clear target in mind, and he didn't chose blood relatives, so his spell was a lot weaker. But it still worked – you could say the talent and recipe was pass onto him by his mother :)**

**3\. Werewolf Disease & Vampire Disease**

**Both are extremely similar, actually.**

**You become a Werewolf when another Werewolf bites you while it's transformed under the fool moon. His spit infects your blood and the disease stays in it like an incurable virus. You become stronger, more agile and resistant to many injuries, but you are extremely vulnerable to several things: silver, fire and light. Werewolfs are the creatures of the night, so they despise sunlight. They are aggressive and have a thirst for human blood.**

**You become a Vampire when another Vampire bites you. His venom infects your blood and the disease stays in it like an incurable virus. You become stronger, more agile and resistant to many injuries, but you are extremely vulnerable to several things: fire, garlic and wooden stake in the heart. Vampires are the creatures of the night, so they despise sunlight: it burns them and they have to sleep in coffins during the day. They are aggressive and have a thirst for human blood. Without blood (can be animal blood though), they are driven to madness – or die.**

**The only significant difference between the two Diseases is that Werewolves are most of the time like normal humans, Vampires are 'active' all the time, not just during the night.**

**The magic virus acts similar as well. You can't get rid of it with simple magic, nor transfusion. It affects the brain too, which is the most difficult part. Werewolves and Vampires aren't necessarily uncontrollable, they just have violent tendencies that can be worked with. Lupin is one friendly Werewolf case. Slughorn brought a Vampire to his party. Snape was making Wolfsbane potion for Lupin, which allowed him to keep his human consciousness during the full moon. Which means there are ways to make their lives easier, to help them cope with their conditions. They totally can be normal members of the society! Just like people with disabilities.**

**But are those conditions curable with alchemy or alkahestry, like chimeras?**

**Hmmm… Maybe? ;)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> Yup, Alphonse is a Squib! Surprised? Oooh, please don't feel disappointed, and worry not, it isn't just for convenience! I have something very specific in mind for this setup :)
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, I worked my butt off for you! ;) I think this is the longest one yet! But I really wanted to make up for the last two-week break.
> 
> Now, we're officially past the "introduction" part. Let's get this plot going! Yes, the last 8 chapters were practically introduction. Oh boy.
> 
> Thank you for reading the third entry of "Filling plot-holes and explaining the unexplained"! Next time: "Poltergeists vs Ghosts" and "Magical Portraits". Any other suggestions? Please leave them in the reviews.
> 
> I wish to thank everyone, for providing me so many great ideas, as well as inspiring me with your praises and criticisms. If you're truly enjoying the story, please remember to leave a comment, you have no idea how happy those make me :)
> 
> Please read on, give kudos and bookmark, recommend to others if you don't mind and most importantly – enjoy! ;D


	9. Paranoid

"I'm a Squib, then? It's okay. Brother can use magic, so we're going to be fine."

"This doesn't mean Al can't be at Hogwarts anymore, does it?"

"Of course he can. Both of you are still welcome to stay."

* * *

Dumbledore paid for Ed's wand and the three of them left the shop immediately, for which both brothers were secretly thankful. Ollivander wasn't a bad man, but he was definitely creepy.

Edward couldn't help but stare at his new wand and analyze how it felt in his left hand. Was this little piece of wood really _alive_? It was useful to know that there was more to a wand than a simple polished stick – he already thinking about looking up those cores Mr. Ollivander mentioned. It was probably the magical substance inside that was responsible for the energy, as well as this impression of an individual will, coming from an inanimate object.

Ed wondered why he never got that feeling from Flamel's wand, or Dumbledore's. Could it be because he never bonded with them? Was it really so important to have a _personal connection_ with a wand? In alchemy, it didn't matter if the circle was drawn by the same person who activated it – as long as the knowledge was there. Here, it seemed, that knowledge was almost never involved…

Ed finally started noticing a patter. Everything alchemy was, magic was _not_. Alchemy was organized, while magic was chaotic. Alchemy followed Equivalent Exchange, magic acted like a free ticket. Where alchemy required _knowledge_ , magic required... _**emotion**_.

Realization shone like a ray of light in his eyes. He was tempted to start babbling about his newest discovery with Al, but he held himself back. This could wait after they were alone. He didn't want to discuss it in front of Dumbledore. The wizard was sneaky – he pretended not to understand their Amestrian, which was probably true, but he could easily cast the ' _Auribus aureum'_ spell on himself to eavesdrop, if he wanted to. Ed decided to be extra careful around him.

A short glance in the old wizard's direction told him that the said man was currently scrutinizing him. _Great_ , Ed thought with irritation, _Now Double Door's acting like that crazy geezer Ollivander_.

"What is it?" he asked as politely as he could muster at the moment.

"Oh, nothing, Edward," the Professor said with a twinkle with his blue eyes. "I was just wondering what do you think about your new wand."

"It's fine, I guess," Ed said impassively. "I haven't tried it out yet, but I'm sure it will be helpful in our research."

They passed the brick wall at the end of the Diagon Alley, entered the 'Leaky Cauldron' (Ed still couldn't get over how ridiculous that name was) and used their portkey, landing back in the Headmaster's office.

"Alright, Double Door," Ed said with an air or resignation. "You took us shopping and paid for my wand. How much do I owe you?"

"Owe me?" Dumbledore chuckled. "You don't need to worry about that, Edward."

"Of course I do!" Ed protested vehemently. "We do not want to be in your debt. You can't just do things for us and get nothing in return!"

Alphonse agreed. "It is not equivalent."

"Ah, but you're forgetting," the Headmaster smiled warmly like a grandfather would. "That I am a wizard before I'm an alchemist. As long as you're staying at Hogwarts, you are my guests. Equivalent Exchange, while admirable, does not apply to common hospitality."

Ed rolled his eyes, thinking: _Stubborn old man_. However Edward was grateful, even if he didn't show it. They didn't have any money right now, so he and his brother would have to figure out how to pay the Professor later.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Al, ever polite, bowed in a Xingese manner. The customs he learned in Xing and May's teachings were sticking with him, even long after he finished his alkahestry studies. "For everything. We really appreciate your help."

"You're very welcome. Is there something else you two need?"

"No, we're good," Ed assured him, already heading to the exit.

"Brother..." Al reprimanded, but followed him as usual.

"Do you need Minerva to show you back to your room?" asked Dumbledore.

"No, thanks! We'll find our way back!" Ed shouted over his shoulder, closing the door behind him.

As soon as they went outside, Ed sighed in relief.

"What was that all about?" Al was puzzled.

"I felt like he was going to start questioning us any minute," Ed explained, running his had through his hair. "The kind of questions that are difficult to answer."

"You mean, about the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Yeah. Just how are we supposed to explain that our **country** was founded and ruled for centuries by evil immortal monsters, who were related to us by blood?" Ed snorted. "I don't think we'd appear very trustworthy after _that_ story."

Al sweat dropped. "But we stopped them, didn't we?"

"It doesn't change our family history." Ed winced. "Homunculi aside, I don't want to explain to him our Human Transmutation… Double Door knows a bit about alchemy, so he should know about the taboo."

"We don't have to mention that, right?"

"We don't, but..." Ed trailed off as he looked at his right hand thoughtfully.

Al noticed where he was looking and frowned.

"You think your right hand can't use a wand because…?"

"Do you have a better explanation?"

"No, but what does the Gate have to do with magic?" Al was confused, and for a good reason. "We agreed that those two are entirely different things, since you can perform magic without your Gate."

"I don't know, Al, but why else wouldn't my right hand work?" Ed rubbed his fingers, examining his hand as if looking for any abnormalities. "Think about it. My right arm, left leg and your whole body were stuck inside the Gate for years..."

Alphonse's eyes widened in realization. He looked at his brother with shock.

"You mean… _that's_ why I'm a Squib?"

Ed shrugged. "It occurred to me just seconds ago. It's possible, but I might be wrong. If this theory that the Gate takes magical abilities away is correct... Isn't seeing ghost a magical ability? Shouldn't you be a Muggle instead of a Squib?"

Al tapped his chin with a finger, pondering.

"Good point. Maybe I was just born this way. I guess we'll never know."

"But Al," Ed said with a bright fire in his eyes. "If I'm right, we may be able to reverse it!"

"Huh?"

"If the Gate took your magical potential, then it's possible to get it back for you!" Ed was getting excitement. "Just think! If we could restore your body-"

"Ed!" Al said harshly, causing Edward to stop and look at him with surprise. "I thought you said we are not messing with the Gate ever again."

"Not the Gate, Al, _magic_!" Ed waved impatiently. "Did you forget already? Magic doesn't work the same way alchemy does. I mean, I still think there's exchange somewhere… But if we could-"

"No." Ed's jaw dropped when Al interrupted him for a second time. "Brother, I said it once and now I'll say it again. I'm fine the way I am."

"But-"

"No! I don't want magic, Brother. That's my final answer."

Ed watched him in contemplative silence for a long moment. "Why not, Al?" he asked softly.

Al took a deep, slow breath, before he responded.

"Don't get me wrong, Brother. I'm really happy for you." He paused. "I never told you, but I… I was so sad when you could no longer do alchemy because of me."

"Al-"

"I know, I know, that was the price you had to pay to get me back and you don't regret it." Alphonse smiled sadly. "You always sacrifice yourself for me. I'm grateful for what you did, Brother. But because you gave up alchemy, something that has always been such an essential part of you... I couldn't help but feel guilty about it."

"But Al, I was glad to do it," Ed told him sincerely. "I did it not just because I had to. I relied on the power of alchemy so much, it made me conceited. That's why I committed the-"

" _We_ , Brother." Al corrected him gently. Edward was always only blaming himself.

"We… We committed the taboo and lost so much. Because of that pride and foolishness, I forgot what Teacher told us, I was convinced everything could be solved with alchemy. I was so _blind_ , Al. That's why… I gave up alchemy, because I finally understood that I don't need it, _we_ don't need it, to be happy."

Al looked him in the eye and smiled widely.

"Exactly, Brother."

Ed blinked. "What do you mean by, 'exactly'?"

"Don't you see? That's exactly how I feel about magic," Alphonse replied. "I don't need it to be happy. I'm glad to have my alchemy, to help people with it. And I'm thrilled for you, because you can learn to use magic to do the same. So don't you ever think I'm _deprived_ just because I can't do magic, Brother."

The older Elric was indignant. "Al, I would never-!"

"Of course not, Brother! And I'd never think such thing about you, either." Al winked playfully. "You didn't need any magic to make that Poltergeist run for his life, did you?"

They both laughed, remembering the terrified spirit fleeing their room, to save himself from Edward's wrath.

"I meant what I said in the shop back there," Al continued when they were done. "I believe it's fair, Brother. You have magic, I have alchemy – we've got all we need to get back home."

"And that's all that matters," Ed finally agreed. He grabbed firmly Al's hand in their brotherly gesture.

"Yeah."

"Thanks for telling me this, Al."

"So, you promise not to try anything stupid to get me magic?"

"Whaaat?" Ed grinned in a goofy way. "No way! When did I _ever_ do _anything_ stupid?"

Alphonse deadpanned at him in response.

* * *

It's been a long time since Albus Dumbledore felt so intrigued.

Truly, he had always been a curious person: in his youth, he yearned to solve all the mysteries of this world and make it a better place. This ambition of his, as well as inquisitive nature, was what made him cross paths and become friends with Gellert Grindelwald, 'a man with a vision' who, as it eventually turned out, was nothing more but another power-hungry wizard. After the fight Albus, Aberforth and Gellert had, which resulted in Ariana's tragic death, Albus suddenly faced the painful realization that he _wasn't_ invincible, and the world _wasn't_ going to bend to his will as if he owned it. In other words, he had learned from his mistakes.

As the years passed, he matured and became wiser, leaving his foolish, unrealistic ambitions behind and instead focused on things that he _could_ change. The Deathly Hallows, the artifacts that fascinated him and Gellert so much once, remained a mystery for a long time. Dumbledore made himself a promise, that he would never let his own selfish goals and curiosity stand in the way of the greater good. His sister paid for this lesson with her life, after all.

However, despite his age and experience, this curiosity still lingered in him… When he discovered that James Potter owned the Invisibility Cloak, a genuine Deathly Hallow, he couldn't help but ask to examine it. When he found out about the Mirror Erised, he just had to purchase it to find out more about its properties – which was how it ended up in Hogwarts. When he studied alchemy with Nicolas Flamel, his tongued refused to obey as he inquired again and again just _how_ on Earth his mentor managed to create the Sorcerer's Stone and what were the ingredients.

Albus Dumbledore was simply a man with undying curiosity, so when he found something that fascinated him, it was really hard for him to turn away and let it be.

Which now was the case with the Elric brothers.

He didn't even know were to start with them – both were complete enigmas, with unknown past, abilities and motives, not to mention the fact that they came from another _world_. Dumbledore had never heard of such thing before, or the portal that opened the moment the Philosopher's Stone was destroyed. To think that there was a different universe, with history and development possibly entirely different from this one, boggled the wizard's mind. He wanted to know everything: what it was like, what were the similarities or differences, about alchemy and magic on the other side... From what he had gathered thanks to the brothers, magic either didn't exist there, or hadn't developed as it had in England. However, alchemy _did_ develop and apparently, it was quite popular too. Was is possible that alchemy replaced magic where the Elrics had come from? Was that the reason why a young, talented wizard such as Edward never owned a wand before? He and Alphonse claimed that there was no one in their world to teach them magic, which seemed to confirm this theory.

Dumbledore was itching to ask, but he wasn't blind – it was obvious Edward Elric wasn't in the least eager to share anything with him. He only told Albus what was absolutely necessary and his brother loyally followed the example. The old wizard knew he had to be patient and gain their trust first. Unfortunately, it seemed it'd take a while... because ever since he withheld the information that six hundred years had passed since Nicolas came back with the Stone, Edward was very guarded around Dumbledore. All the Professor intended was to spare the boys some pain, but clearly it had been a mistake. Even if the older Elric really trusted him for a moment, right after the brothers had showed up, he sure as hell no longer did. And Alphonse wasn't going to spill, either. He might have seemed like a kind, harmless boy, but the wizard recognized the same look that Edward held in his eye – a look of harsh experience, strength and absolute determination. There was no way Albus could force any of them to tell secrets against their will.

In spite of what Ed thought, Dumbledore actually spent a lot of time on their case. He didn't spare his resources in tracking Nicolas Flamel. Regardless his curiosity, this matter became of utmost importance for the Headmaster. Nicolas had lied to him, or at least, he hid a very important truth from him. Because of his actions, Hogwarts had been put in danger, two innocent (or rather, not proven guilty of anything) people were imprisoned in an interdimensional portal _for centuries_ , Harry Potter had been injured and most importantly, Voldemort was interested in an artifact that was created by _sacrificing human lives_. The last thing alone was more than enough reason for Dumbledore to chase the man down, no matter where he was hiding.

Nicolas' betrayal was very hard to take in. Before all of this, Albus considered him a good friend and a trusted ally, even if they had some disagreements. It was also a slight blow to his pride. Dumbledore had always thought of himself to be very perceptive. Well, apparently even in his old age, he was still capable of major errors of judgement.

In any case, Dumbledore was determined to figure out as much as possible on his own. He'd been provided a fair amount of information to work with, even with the Elrics' secretiveness.

Edward was temperamental, fearsome and intelligent, which was a dangerous combination. Alphonse seemed to be his opposite, beside the intelligence part – an embodiment of patience and politeness. But despite their differences, the brothers were extremely close. From the way they interacted, it was clear the younger had complete power over his protective sibling, who loved him immensely. But at the same time, Dumbledore could tell that Al respected Ed with devotion that could only be severely earned. The two must have been through a lot together. What exactly, one could only guess – but their golden eyes reflected plenty of hardships, but also strives and achievements. They were forced to grow up too soon, learning extraordinary skills like alchemy early in their childhood.

Young may they be, but they were a force to be reckoned with, no doubt. Fortunately, they appeared to be noble and idealistic at heart, which was a great relief. The last thing this world needed was another Tom Riddle, let alone _two_.

Then, there was the matter of the real creator of the Stone. Nicolas probably never met the person – Edward was being very specific when he said that Flamel _took_ the Philosopher's Stone. He stole it, not caring what it'd been made of. It was also possible that Nicolas didn't exactly know how to make one. The brothers did, however, which turned on an alarm in the Professor's mind. Just how and why would they know such a thing? He didn't believe they would use their knowledge to create a Philosopher's Stone, it contradicted everything he had learned about them so far. No, they were protecting the secret and making sure nobody would get their hands on a Stone. Yet again, the question was why?

Finally, the issue that intrigued Professor Dumbledore most: Edward's inability to cast magic with his right hand.

Other wizards would have just ignored it, with so many unusual circumstances already surrounding the Elrics, but Dumbledore as well as Mr. Ollivander knew that this was not normal. If Edward could cast a flawless spell with somebody else's wand on his first try, he had to be a very powerful wizard. But his right hand seemed completely magically unable. At first, Albus wondered if Ed's arm could have been cursed. But then, it occurred to him that in the world he came from, there _was_ no magic, so how would anybody curse him? Another possibility (no matter how crazy it might sound) was that the hand originally didn't belong to him… It was perfectly possible to attach a foreign limb to a person with alchemy. Dumbledore could easily imagine a scenario in which Edward's life was in danger, requiring such risky procedure. But that's too improbable and crazy, wasn't it?

The reason he came up with that theory in the first place was because of what Alphonse said (mentioned among names, events and places Albus had no idea about):

" _How many times have we been in a hopeless situation before? Remember when everybody thought we could never restore ourselves back to normal? Or when I gave up my blood seal to get your arm back? You didn't give up back then! Are you really going to now?_ "

Those words weren't meant for his ears – Dumbledore could only understand them because of the translation spell – but they were hard to forget, because of how ominous they sounded. What exactly Alphonse Elric meant when he said: "... _I gave up my blood seal to get your arm back_?"

This suggested that Edward lost one of his arms at some point. Of course he had both now, so the question was **how** he got it back? Again, there was no magic in his world, so he couldn't simply regrow it. Just what was that 'blood seal'?

For the first time in years, Dumbledore used a Muggle dictionary. He was probably one of very few wizards, if not the only one, who owned it. But it was extremely useful for such rare events like this. He didn't know what word Al used in Amestrian, but perhaps English definition would give him some insight.

"A seal is a word describing an embossed emblem, a figure, a symbol, a word or a letter, used as attestation or evidence of authenticity," read the dictionary.

 _It's also used to contain something, to keep it secure_ , Dumbledore silently added. _A seal of_ _ **blood**_ _is definitely something very important then._

He studied magical properties of dragon blood for several decades. It was amazing, really, how many uses blood had… So if Alphonse owned a seal of blood, in high probability _his own blood_ , and gave it up for his brother's arm (Equivalent Exchange, perhaps? How did it fit in all of this?), it had to contain something precious. Just what could it be?

" _Remember when everybody thought we could never restore ourselves back to normal?_ "

 _There's some deep, dark mystery behind it_ , the Professor thought, closing the book with an unsettling feeling in his mind. He had to research this matter, thoroughly.

* * *

The rest of the week, as well as the next passed to the brothers almost in a blur. They were so focused on their studies and the magic experiments, the only thing reminding them about the passage of time was the House Elf, who visited them three times a day with trays full of delicious food.

Al was really glad that for once, he didn't have to remind his brother to eat so Ed wouldn't starve. Which, admittedly, was very plausible, considering how absorbed Edward was with their new goal. Just like it had been with restoring Al's body in the past, he felt he absolutely _had_ to find a way for them to get home. According to Edward Elric's logic, because magic had brought them into this world, and Ed was the one who could use it, it was solely his responsibility to find a solution. Alphonse of course disagreed, but as usual, Ed was stubborn and seemed determined to work himself to death.

What Al didn't know was that there was also something else on Ed's mind lately.

It was revealed on Wednesday, exactly one week and a day since their arrival in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was around one o'clock, and they were in the middle of analyzing a book titled 'Modern Magical History', as they wanted to understand the wizard society more to blend in better. Al was talking to Ed about Muggles and Statue of Secrecy, wondering about the law's limitation when it came to mixed marriages, when he noticed Ed wasn't really paying attention. Instead, he was looking at the wall with a far-away look in his eye.

"Brother?" Al snapped his fingers in front of his face. Ed flinched, blinking at him in a distracted way.

"Yeah?"

"Are you listening?"

"Sure, I'm listening..."

Alphonse continued, but five minutes later the same thing happened again.

"Hello, Earth to Edward!"

Ed tried to focus, but it was short-lived yet again. Eventually, Ed gave up, stood up and shook his legs, also checking if his automail worked properly.

"Al, I think I'm going to go for a walk..." he said offhandedly.

Alphonse gaped at him as if he grew a second head all of a sudden.

"What?" Ed made an innocent face.

"Brother, you want to take a **break**? Are you serious?"

"There's nothing strange about it, is there?"

"But you never take breaks," Al stated, watching him suspiciously.

"Geez, we've been reading for hours!" Ed said with exasperation. "I just want to stretch my legs!"

"Okay, let's go then!" Al said with enthusiasm, but Edward stopped him:

"Nah, there's no need Al. I'll probably be back in a minute or so…"

Al frowned.

"So, **you** want to go, but you want **me** to stay?"

"Y-yeah… Something like that..."

The younger Elric narrowed his eyes in a questioning stare.

"Brother, where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

"Uhuh. And I'm the Fuhrer's secretary. What are you up to?"

Quite unexpectedly, Ed snapped. "Look, I just need a moment to _think_ , okay?! **Alone!** "

Al froze with his eyes all wide and shocked.

"F-forget it." Ed was clearly regretting his outburst, but he was not willing to apologize just yet. "See ya later, Al."

The door closed behind him with a loud 'BANG!'. Ed slammed it in the Fullmetal fashion.

 _What just happened?_ Al wondered. His brother never acted like this… Something must have been bothering him for a while. Normally Al would respect Edward's wish for privacy, but the younger Elric had a feeling it wasn't what Ed really wanted or needed right now.

 _If only he could just tell me what it's all about, but_ _ **nooo**_ _! He always has to keep everything to himself…!_ Al sighed. _Stupid Ed. I guess I better follow him… Brother is bound to bump into and yell at someone who doesn't deserve it when he's like this._

So silently, like a ninja, he sneaked out and followed his brother's Chi. Even in this place, he could sense it with Dragon Pulse when Ed was nearby. This ability was proving to be very useful.

* * *

Harry was sitting in the hospital wing, bored out of his mind. He wished he could leave already, but it seemed Madam Pomfrey was determined to keep him here for the rest of the school year. He was still feeling tired a lot, but without Ron and Hermione, who still had classes, he had nothing to do with himself.

Luckily, he had a brand new collection of Chocolate Frog cards with him, provided to him by his _fans_. There was no way he would eat the half of the candy he received before the school was over. But he could open some boxes. Ron was sure going to be happy to trade cards later, Harry thought. He got a lot of new ones, but also got several he already had before, like Professor Dumbledore's card.

Harry looked at the image of the bearded Professor with a small smile on his face, remembering how it provided the three of them the important clue of who Nicolas Flamel was. Then, he was broken out of his recollections when he heard Madam Pomfrey speaking to someone:

"Harry Potter? Yes, he's still here."

"Would you mind if I talked to him for a minute?" asked an unknown male voice. It was smooth but held a strong foreign accent.

"Of course not," said Madam Pomfrey.

Harry stared with surprise when a boy a couple of years older than him entered the hospital wing. He had long, blond hair tied up in a ponytail. He looked like a seventh year, but Harry was sure he had never seen him around before. Suddenly, Harry remembered:

_Hermione said he met two golden-haired boys in the library, didn't she? I don't remember what their names were… Is he one of them?_

The boy stood next to his bed, eyeing Harry with curiosity.

"You're Harry, right?"

"Yes, who are you?" asked Harry, confused.

"I'm Edward. You can call me Ed."

Harry nodded in acknowledgment.

"I hope it's not a bad time or something..." Ed mumbled, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Oh, no. I'm quite bored, actually," said Harry.

"Right." Ed sat in the chair next to his bed. "So, um, Harry."

There was an awkward silence.

"Yeah?" Harry said eventually, prompting him to continue. He was trying to figure out why this 'Edward' was even here. He was clearly not a fan. He looked like he wanted to talk about something, but didn't know where to start.

"Uh…." Ed seemed lost in thought for a moment. He stared at the wall as if it could give him some advice. _What a strange guy_ , thought Harry. "I guess I… just wanted to see how are you doing."

"Oh." Harry blinked. "I'm fine."

"Good to hear."

Another awkward silence.

"Do you, uh, you like Hogwarts?" Ed asked, fidgeting a bit in his seat.

"Sure, I love Hogwarts."

"What's your favorite subject?"

"I don't know… I like Quidditch."

"Quidditch? What's that?" Ed looked at him with a baffled expression.

Harry opened his mouth in slight shock.

"You don't know what Quidditch is?"

Ed shrugged. "Not really."

Harry scrutinized him almost suspiciously. "How could you not know about Quidditch? Are you a Muggle?"

"No, I'm a wizard," Ed told him quickly. "I'm just not from… around here."

Harry got curious.

"Where are you from?"

"Hungary."

"Hungary? That's far..."

"Yeah, me and my brother just got here last week," Ed explained.

_Oh, so he_ _**is** _ _one of those boys Hermione met in the library..._

"What are you doing in Hogwarts? Are you transferring here?"

An irritated scowl appeared on his face.

"Why does everybody think I'm a teenager…?!" he grumbled unhappily.

"You're not a teenager?"

" **No!** " Ed glared at him. Harry was startled by his fiery golden eyes. They were quite frightening. " **I'm twenty one!** "

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't know!" Harry quickly apologized.

Ed's expression quickly softened. He sighed.

"It's fine. I'm almost used to it..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But it gets really annoying sometimes, people making assumptions about you, when they know _nothing_ about who you are..."

"Yeah… I know how it feels..." murmured Harry with sympathy. He really didn't like it when everybody was gushing over him, calling him 'the Boy who Lived', acting as if they knew everything about him but never actually trying to get to _know_ him.

Ed smirked at him. It seemed his awkwardness had passed.

"You do, don't you? How do you deal with it?"

"Uh, I don't know." Harry shrugged. "I try not to pay much attention to it. I got friends who know what I'm really like."

Ed nodded in approval. "That's good. Who cares what others think, right? You are who you are and nothing they say is going to change that."

Harry smiled back. He decided at that moment that liked Ed. He was a bit weird, but he seemed like a good guy.

"So, what are you doing in Hogwarts, Ed?" he repeated his previous question.

"Al and I are doing some research," came the reply. "We want to use the library."

"The library? Just that?" Harry was a little surprised. It was a long way to travel from Hungary to England, just to visit a library.

"That's one of the reasons," Ed said nonchalantly. "Anyway, I heard you had a scuffle with one of the teachers not too long ago."

'Scuffle'?! That's hardly how Harry would call his life-or-death battle for the Sorcerer's Stone with Lord Voldemort. But how did Ed know about it? Did he hear rumors from other students?

"You did good," Ed continued, ignoring his disbelieving expression. "You stopped Professor Quirrel from getting the Philosopher's Stone. Sure, you got injured in the process, but no major wounds from what it looks like," his eyes run over Harry's bandages. "I say for your first time, it's a job well done."

Harry stared at him, dumbfounded. He didn't know what was more confusing in this situation: the indifferent, unfazed way Ed said it or the fact of how much he knew.

"How do you know about the Stone?!" Harry exclaimed. Ed looked like his reaction strongly amused him.

"You heard about Nicolas Flamel?"

"Yes, he's the one who made the Stone, right?"

Ed left the question without comment, but made a strangely sour face.

"You could say Nicolas is a friend of mine."

Harry's jaw dropped for the second time. After he gaped at Ed for a while, he turned his features into a sad expression.

"I'm sorry about Mr. Flamel… That he's going to..."

"To die?" Ed finished for him with a surprisingly gentle tone. "Well, everybody dies at some point. You, me, Flamel, everyone. One is all, all is one."

Harry clearly didn't understand what he meant by that, so he elaborated:

"You see, Harry, life flows only in one direction. Sooner or later, we're all going to pass on. Of course we prefer it to be later than sooner, but in the end, we're all equals when it comes to death. But it's not necessarily a bad thing, you know. Imagine being forced to live forever, watching everybody you love and care about leave you behind… Nicolas had been living over six hundred years, it must have been quite a burden for him. Believe me, long life does not guarantee you happiness – I used to know someone who would tell you the same thing. So it's not about how long you live, Harry, it's about how you _chose_ _to live_."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, not knowing what to say. He never thought about it that way. But still, he had to ask:

"So, you're not upset that Mr. Nicolas Flamel is going to die?"

Ed's lip lifted slightly, forming a small smile. "I know it must be difficult for you to understand. Death is very hard to comprehend, especially when you lose someone important to you. Many adults can't accept it either."

"Have you seen anybody die?" Harry blurted out before he realized how insensitive that question was.

"Yes," Ed's eyes suddenly seemed distant. "And it was difficult for me, too... for many years I couldn't face it. But I had people who supported me helped me get through it, like my brother."

Harry felt sad. He never had anybody to support him after his parents died. All he had were the Dursleys, and they never treated him like family. Harry wished he had a sibling – of course, only if he were to be different from his cousin Dudley.

"Hey, don't be like that, kid," Ed said suddenly with a lighter tone. "I'm sure you have people who care about you too, right?"

Well, he supposed it was true… Not before he came to Hogwarts, but now, Harry had Ron and Hermione. That counted, didn't it?

"I guess we should change the topic, I didn't come here to make you all depressed," Ed said half joking and half serious. "What are those?" He pointed at the small pile of cards on the table next to his bed.

"Oh. They're Chocolate Frog cards." It felt really weird, talking about something so ordinary after such deep talk about life and death and stuff.

"Chocolate Frogs?" Ed repeated with a bewilderment.

It soon proved to be a good subject to switch the mood, after their serious conversation. Harry treated Ed a Chocolate Frog, resulting in Ed freaking out when it jumped out of its box as soon as he opened it. It was hilarious. Harry couldn't remember the last time he laughed so hard.

"That's not funny! Who wants to eat jumping chocolate? People in this country are crazy!" Ed loudly complained. Then he picked up a random card from the table and made a surprised face. "Double Door? What is he doing here?" he asked.

After Harry recovered from laughing over his pronunciation of Professor Dumbledore's name (which Ed could be hardly blamed for, he was a foreigner after all) explained how the cards had famous wizards and witches on them. Ed seemed quite intrigued.

"I didn't know Double Door was famous… Let's see..." he turned the card and read aloud: "' _Albus Double Door, currently headmaster of Hogwarts... Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times..._ ' Huh, really? That's interesting… ' _Double Door is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945…_ ' Sounds familiar, I'm pretty sure it was in some book I was reading... ' _...and for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood_ , _and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel..._ ' Ha, good one. ' _Professor Double Door enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling…_ ' I don't even wanna find out how they knew about **that**."

Ed continued going through other cards, making sarcastic comments and adding funny expressions over his reading, amusing Harry.

"You want to try some jelly beans? I promise those don't jump," said the Boy who Lived, holding up a box of 'Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans'.

Ed shrugged, put the cards away and picked out a random white-colored jelly bean. Harry guessed it was probably coconut. Ed popped it into his mouth and chew for a moment. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he made a spectacular spit-take.

"Bleeeeeh! Are you trying to poison me?!" he ranted, his face flushing red in anger. But Harry could tell he was not angry for real, at least he wasn't really mad at _him_.

"What flavor was that?"

"Milk! Yuck!" Ed was trying to get rid of the taste from his mouth, making theatrical faces. "Disgusting cow juice!"

Harry got another laughing fit, so hard his stomach started to hurt. "Wh-what?!" he could barely utter through his giggles. "You re-reacted like that to m-milk? I th-though you got vomit flavor or s-something!"

"It's basically the same! I'm not drinking some opaque white liquid that was secreted by a **cow**!"

Harry laughed and laughed. Ed could be intimidating if he wanted to, with those strange burning eyes of his, but now, even as he was yelling and ranting, he was doing that in a good-natured, friendly way. Harry had to admit that despite absence of Ron and Hermione, he was having a good time. Ed was surprisingly fun to hang out with.

After the jelly beans, Harry continued introducing him to other English wizard treats (although Ed refused trying most of them, out of suspicion that their production included 'that revolting cow fluid'). Ed asked him some other questions about school, Harry explained what Quidditch was ("A game you play on a flying broom? I knew it: wizards here really _are_ insane"), they even shared their mutual dislike towards certain blond Slytherin ("So his name is Draco Malfoy, huh? Very fitting for such skinny little brat!"). They would probably continue to talk longer if Madam Pomfrey hadn't stepped in.

"It's been over half an hour, Mr. Elric, the boy needs rest!" she scolded Ed.

"Half an hour? Really?!" Ed was incredulous. Then he grinned sheepishly. "Haha, whoops! I better go, Al is probably wondering where I ran off to, I told him I'd be back in a minute..."

"You mean that nice boy waiting for you in the hallway?" said Madam Pomfrey.

Ed blinked twice.

"Al's here?"

"Yes, he came here right after you. He's been waiting this entire time in front of the hospital wing. You didn't know?" She seemed surprised.

A faint blush of embarrassment painted Edward's cheeks.

"Uh… I gotta go…" He sprinted from his chair, then stopped in the exit and turned. He sent Harry a wide grin. "It was nice meeting you, Harry."

"Yeah! Thanks for visiting, Ed," Harry responded with an honest smile. "Will you and your brother be here in September?"

"Probably not."

"Then you can come here again sometime… If you want to, that is."

"We'll see."

"You can bring your brother with you next time, right?"

"Sure. See ya!" Ed made a quick wave and left.

Harry was still smiling, long after Ed was gone.

* * *

Ed felt his face burning as he stepped out the hospital wing. Alphonse was indeed waiting there for him, with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. It only made Edward feel worse.

"Just a moment to think alone, huh?" he said.

The older Elric avoided his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Ed, why didn't you just tell me you wanted to visit him?" Al asked, genuinely curious.

"I didn't plan this… I sort of came up with it last minute..." Ed mumbled, still looking anywhere but at his face.

"Okay then, but why?"

Ed didn't respond. Al sighed.

"Brother, what's going on? You're not acting like yourself. First you want a break, then you yell at me-"

"I'm sorry about that, alright?!" Ed said quickly.

"-then you _go visit a kid in a hospital_ that you've never even met before... then spend solid **forty minutes** with him, actually talking to him instead of me."

Ed seemed conflicted. "Al..."

"I'm not jealous or anything ridiculous like that. But I know you and it's not like you. You never share with strangers, let alone children. You must have a reason for it. Just tell me what's going on." Al forced him to meet his eyes. "Please, Brother?"

Edward couldn't look at his little brother's pleading expression and resist for long. He turned his head away.

"You'll think it's stupid..." he muttered pitifully.

"Brother, I'm not going to make fun of you. I can tell something's been bothering you. What is it?"

Finally, Ed's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I'll tell you… just… not here. Can we get back to our room?"

Al nodded. "Of course. We can talk there." His tone added: _And you're not getting out of this one, you're going to tell me_ _ **everything**_ _._

When they got back in their room, they sat on Ed's bed bed. At first, it didn't seem Ed was going to talk at all, but Al waited patiently. Eventually, Ed spoke in a weak voice:

"I've been thinking a lot… about home..." he admitted.

Al was hardly surprised. He was thinking about home all the time too. But why Ed was so reluctant to talk about it?

"You mean you're homesick."

"No, it's not that… it's… Winry..."

"What about her, Brother?"

Ed gritted his teeth, like he physically couldn't continue. Al put his hand on Ed's shoulder comfortingly. "Hey, it's alright. Just say it."

Suddenly, Ed turned his head and looked at him. His eyes were full of _desperation_.

"It's about the baby…"

In that moment, everything clicked in Al's head. Understanding dawned on him as his mouth involuntarily made a quiet: "Oh..." sound. It wasn't just about Ed being worried they wouldn't make it back home – it was too early for that, they'd been here only a week. Ed was currently stressing over… _fatherhood_.

"Al, I'm scared. I'm out of my mind!" Suddenly Ed was talking really fast, like if he didn't get it off his chest now the world would explode. "I mean, I've known I'm going to become a father for months, and that's a good thing, right? I mean, I always wanted to be! I didn't worry too much before, I was kinda excited even, but only now I'm realizing I have _**no idea**_ how to be a dad! And now that we're stuck in a _school_ , it hit me that I know _**nothing**_ about kids! Especially _**normal**_ kids! We haven't been normal kids since we were like five and six! That's fifteen years! I don't know how normal kids are _**like**_! Or what they need, or- what if I turn out to be a horrible father?!"

"Brother, you're not-" Al tried to interrupt, but Ed didn't even notice:

"But that's not even the wort part! What if we mess up this whole interdimensional travel thing and we end up years into the future where my kid is already a _**teenager**_?!"

Alphonse gawked, his mind going blank for a moment. " _What_?"

Ed got up and started pacing around the room. "I don't know how teenagers work either, Al! If anything, it's even _**worse**_! I've _**never**_ been a normal teenager! I was in the military and getting into fights and swearing like a sailor and- I'm the worst role model _**ever**_! How am I supposed to relate to my kid? And how am I supposed set a good example for him, or for her? I'm a terrible example! I'm like the '101 guide' of what a teenager is _**not**_ supposed to be!"

Alphonse finally snapped out of his stupor. "Brother, I think you're overreac-"

"What if we get back and my kid is fifteen already or older and absolutely _**hates**_ me? Like I hated our dad? But Hohenheim was there at least when we were born and we still remembered him! I would totally deserve it for not being there!"

Al got up as well and grabbed his arm to calm him down. "Brother-"

"And then it would be already too late to fix anything because my kid grew up all without me! What if Winry can't handle it on her own? What if lonely childhood leaves mental scars that nothing can fix?! What if-"

* **SLAP!** *

Ed held his hand to the hurting cheek, staring at Al in shock. Wow, he must have really flipped out if Alphonse was forced to _slap him_ to bring him back to his senses.

"Brother, I get that you're worried, it was only a matter of time I suppose," Alphonse said sternly. "But you're acting like an idiot."

"What?"

"You're going to be the best father ever, Ed, _how can you not see that?_ "

Ed almost fell over. Whatever he had been expecting Al to say, it was **not** that. "Huh?!"

"You've been like a father figure to me ever since dad left! Even before mom dies, you always took care of and protected me! Then why the _hell_ would you think you're going to make a horrible father?!" When Al used strong words like that, it meant he was really angry.

"I-"

"Seriously, Brother! You know I never blamed dad for leaving, however the fact it that he _chose_ to leave. And he could have came back to check on us, but he didn't. He could have written, but he didn't. You're spending every second awake trying to figure out a way to get home, to _your family_. If that's not a sign of a great father, I don't know what is. You are so, so much better than our dad has ever been."

Ed's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. Then he dropped his hand.

"You… you really think so?"

"I _know_ so. Nobody knows you as well as I do!"

He was suddenly filled with hope. Ed slowly smiled, then sat down on his bed again. Al joined him, after cooling off.

"Now I see why you snapped at me like that earlier. You must have been thinking about it a lot."

"Yeah..." Ed nodded.

"Next time just tell me what's bothering you in the beginning, before you lose it and take it all out on people around you. It will make you feel better, trust me. Promise?"

"Promise." He _did_ feel much better after saying his fears out loud.

"Still, can I ask you something, Brother?"

Ed looked at him. "What is it, Al?"

"Why did you decide to visit Harry Potter?" Al quickly explained: "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, it's actually really nice of you… But I haven't expected that when I followed you. I was just wondering why."

Ed shifted a bit. "His name came up in the book we were reading..."

Al blinked. "It did?"

"Yeah. And I sort of started thinking how it wasn't for that kid, we would still be trapped in that portal… So..." Ed seemed flustered. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted to make sure he's fine, 'cause… you know."

"Oh, Ed! That's so sweet of you!" His younger brother smiled brightly, but there was a slightly teasing edge to his tone.

"Shut up." Ed ducked his head, trying to hide his once again red cheeks. He was definitely _not sweet_. Such insinuation was absurd.

"Was that really your only reason?"

"Not exactly…" he admitted. "I suppose I wanted to try talking to a child, just to find out how lousy of a father I'd really make… I just sort of tried to imagine what it would be like, if it was my own kid."

Al's smile only widened.

"Well, from what I heard, you did a really great job. He was laughing a lot. He must have liked you."

Edward knew he was not going to completely stop freaking out over becoming a parent anytime soon. But, with Al's vote of confidence and reassuring word… he might just start worry less. A little bit, that is.

* * *

"Edward came to visit you?!"

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry in disbelief.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's just… He really came to visit you? And he _talked_ to you?"

"What's so strange about it?"

"You see, Harry… He hasn't talked to anyone beside the teachers," said Hermione. "The only times we saw him and his brother was in the Great Hall for the meals..."

"Which was before the fuss Peeves caused a week ago," Ron remarked.

"Not counting the time I stumbled across them in the library," she added. "I spoke with Alphonse, but that was barely a couple of sentences. He told me to go to the hospital wing, and that's about it."

"Now they don't come anymore… We were wondering if they left the school or something."

"They no longer show up in the library, either."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, maybe they're shy or something? Ed did act a bit awkward at first when he came here..."

"What did you talk about?" asked Hermione with excitement.

Harry told them everything that happened while Edward was in the hospital wing.

"He hates milk that much?" Ron snickered. "Wow. That's mature."

"So he's twenty one?" Hermione smiled with triumph. "See, Ron? I told you they are be older than they seem! They're old enough to be teachers!"

"It didn't sound like either of them planning to teach, though," said Harry. "I asked if they were going to be here in September, but he said that probably not."

Hermione looked terribly disappointed.

"Hey Harry, how do you think he knows Nicolas Flamel, anyway?" Ron took over the conversation, after glancing at Hermione a bit helplessly. "You think they're related?"

"I don't know, but he said he was his friend..."

"Why would you think he's a relative?" Hermione looked at Ron with curiosity. The possibility hadn't even occurred to her.

"Simple. Flamel sure has a lot of money, right? It only makes sense some relatives are going to show up to collect his fortune," Ron explained as if it was obvious.

Hermione was appalled. " _Ron!_ "

"What?" The boy didn't notice how her cheeks paled so he continued: "I mean, after six hundred years he's got to be rich, right? And his Sorcerer's Stone which could turn metal into gold..."

Much to the two boy's horror, Hermione's eyes filled with tears. " _Ronald Weasley, you're absolutely horrible!_ " she screamed and ran out of the hospital wing.

Ron stared behind her in dumb stupor. Then he turned to his friend. "What the bloody hell was that all about? What's wrong with her, Harry?"

Harry sighed. He wasn't very skilled in emotional field himself, but at least he wasn't as oblivious as Ron. He understood the situation better, since his own parents left him quite a lot of money in Gringotts before they died. "I think what you just said might have been… insensitive," he explained warily.

"But it's true!"

"Yes, but imagine if those were _your_ parents. How would you feel if somebody was talking to you about collecting their money? Is this really what you would be thinking about if they were _dying_?"

Ron's face immediately fell.

"Oh," he said, looking at the floor.

"Maybe you should go after her?" Harry suggested.

"Why me, mate?!"

"It was you who said it!"

"I'll probably only make it worse!" Ron protested, waving his hands in the air.

"Well, I can't leave the hospital wing," Harry wisely pointed out. "So it's either you or no one."

Ron finally gave up and ran (or rather, dragged himself) after their friend with an expression of a prisoner being lead to his execution.

He returned after several minutes, with Hermione at his side, her eyes still a little and puffy, but at least she had stopped crying. Ron, however, had a strangely embarrassed expression and his ears were red. Harry decided not to question it.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" he asked just to make sure.

She sniffled, but then smiled and nodded. "Yes, I'm better now. I'm sorry, Harry."

"Uh, it's fine." Harry felt awkward and Ron was surely feeling the same way, judging from his face. The Boy who Lived was grateful that it wasn't him who had to comfort Hermione. He didn't know what to do with crying girls.

Fortunately, it really appeared Hermione got over crying, because she took out her books and notes and started telling Harry what he had missed from his classes. Ron groaned in misery, but he pulled his books too.

Edward's words suddenly came rushing back to him:

" _Who cares what others think, right? You are who you are and nothing they say is going to change that. I'm sure you have people who care about you too, right?_ "

Harry grinned, watching his friends argue about their transfiguration homework – or rather, Ron begging Hermione to allow him to copy hers, and the girl tartly turning him down. For some reason, their usual antics made him very happy.

Yeah… Ed was right after all.

* * *

A couple of days later, the school year's ending feast was held in the Great Hall. Much to Professor McGonagall's dismay, it was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup... for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. She took her place next to the Head of the Slytherin grudgingly, but she had enough pride left in her to look Severus in the eye and exchange pleasantries.

Finally, Albus Dumbledore arrived and stood in front of the teacher's table.

"Another year gone!" he said cheerfully, shushing the commotion and all the eyes focused on him. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... You have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts..."

Some teacher exchanged disapproving looks. Professor Snape's face was absolutely expressionless. Minerva had to restrain herself from making a facepalm. The Headmaster's frankness was sometimes- scratch that, _always_ far too inordinate for her taste.

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy- two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Professor Snape smirked at Minerva, who was trying really hard to remain impassive, as a _mature_ person would do. But Merlin's Beard, she hated this man's silent gloating. _So. Much!_ Last year, when Griffindor's Quidditch team was smashed in the match with Slytherins, she couldn't stand to look at his smug face for weeks…!

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However…"

The tone the Headmaster used immediately got her attention.

"...recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. Even Severus stiffened in his seat.

"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat before he took out a small note. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see…"

Last-minute points?! Minerva nearly gaped, as well as several other teachers if judging by their expressions. What's the point of giving last-minute points when it was all already decided? Could it be that…?

"Yes… First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Minerva felt her chest swell with pride. She bewitched those chess pieces herself! There were not easy to defeat! That was truly an amazing feat. And a first-year boy from _her_ house!

Gryffindor cheers were so loud, they nearly raised the enchanted ceiling. She could hear Griffindor's Head Boy, Percy Wesley, yell proudly something about his little brother and her giant chess set.

* * *

In a far-away corner of Hogwarts, in the Elric brother's room, Alphonse lifted his head from the book and when an echo reached them in the stone walls of the castle.

Just as he thought it was only his imagination-

* * *

"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Minerva was tempted to cheer with the rest of her house, but he held herself back. She was a teacher, after all!

* * *

"Brother?"

"Yeah, Al?"

"Did you hear something blow up?"

* * *

"Third – to Mr. Harry Potter…"

The Great Hall went deadly quiet for a moment. McGonagall held her breath.

* * *

Edward frowned, listening.

"I don't hear anything."

"But I could have swear something exploded just now!"

* * *

"...for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

 _Ah, screw dignity!_ Minerva jumped up from her seat, roaring and applauding with her students.

* * *

"Al I don't think-"

Another echo, twice as loud as before erupted, cutting him off.

"Now you hear it?!"

"Yeah, but just **what** is that?"

Alphonse's face paled. "Maybe the castle is standing on a volcano that is about to erupt?"

* * *

Dumbledore raised his hand and the room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

* * *

Ed snorted.

"Al, don't be ridiculous-"

The stone walls shook violently and the brothers jumped on their feet, frightened.

* * *

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the tempest of cheers. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating Slytherin's downfall. "We need a little change of decoration!"

The Headmaster clapped his hands and in an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold. The huge Slytherin serpent vanished, replaced by a towering Gryffindor lion.

McGonagall took Professor Snape's hand and shook energetically it with a grin. _Ha! In your face, Severus!_ She thought. The Slytherin's Head had a horrible, forced smile on his lips that appeared more like a grimace. He looked as if he just swallowed a cauldron of Skele-Gro potion.

* * *

" _What the hell is that noise?!_ " Ed shouted and clenched his fists. "I swear, if it's a prank of that damn Poltergeist, I'm going to kill him!"

"But Brother, is that even possible? I mean, to kill a Poltergeist?"

Ed growled and grabbed a book about magical creatures.

"I don't know, but I certainly intend to find out!"

* * *

Edward never found out the true reason why his peace and studies were disrupted; however, it is said that after the confrontation he had with Peeves the night that followed, the Poltergeist swore to stay away from the Elric brothers, more willing to kiss a Dementor than to face Ed ever again.

* * *

**_Filling plot-holes and explaining the unexplained_ **

**1.** **Poltergeists vs Ghosts**

**Ghosts are a very interesting concept, I think.**

**Not just their existence. What truly fascinates me, is how** **_casually_ ** **they are treated in the Wizarding World. After all, in most fantasy stories, ghosts are usually something bad – a cursed phantom, an evil spirit, a possessing demon, et cetera et cetera. But the ghosts in Hogwarts are nothing like that. In fact, they are more like ordinary civilian – as normal and ordinary as possible, living their "lives" like nothing is off. Isn't that weird?**

" ** _I was afraid of death. I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn't to have… Well, that is neither here nor there… in fact, I am neither here nor there… I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead._** **" - Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington**

**We know from Nicholas (a.k.a. Nearly Headless Nick) that every wizard and witch has a choice to become a ghost when they die. As you surely remember from Chapter 5, what wizards see after death is actually the Gate and they make their bargain with Truth. They can either go through to get to the afterlife (yes, if souls and God exist in FMA Universe, it is only natural to assume there's an afterlife as well), or... they make the decision to stay in the physical world in their incorporeal forms. However, there is a catch – Equivalent Exchange, of course. Ghost are like a soul trapped in an armor: they cannot feel, smell, eat or sleep… and they can't die, so they are forced to live like that… forever. Basically, the price they pay is** **_their afterlife_ ** **. It's constant living in hell, separation from the ones you love… permanent separation. The only worse fate is what the Homunculus got, which is** **_real_ ** **hell.**

**In other words, becoming a ghost is an eternal self-damnation.**

**Not many actually go trough with it, less than 1% of dying wizards and witches do. After death, the perception of reality for a soul is quite different. The concept of passing is no longer terrifying, which is why this option isn't much appealing. Of course, when the wizards** **_do_ ** **make that decision, they usually have no idea what it's going to be like.**

**Anyway, there are three reasons why anybody would chose such a thing:**

**1) Fear**

**This was the case of Nearly Headless Nick. The reason why he was too ashamed to answer Ed's question was because he did the opposite of what Griffindor is supposed to be: instead of being brave, he acted cowardly. He didn't want to go to the afterlife. His meeting with Truth was basically him begging not to be forced to go through the Gate. He got what he wanted, of course, and he was really content with his state for years. He felt like he cheated death and won: he stayed, no longer afraid of the witch-hunts, since the Muggles couldn't see him. However after a century and a half, like every other ghost, a realization was slowly started dawning on him, what he actually had done. As said in Chapter 5, all ghosts regret their choice, one way or another. There is no truly happy ghost, at least, not permanently. Those who realized the truth often pretend that they didn't and keep a cheerful, casual facade. Nearly Headless Nick eventually is going to send himself on an exile, like all the ancient ghosts of the past had done (is that wasn't the case, the Earth would be crowed with them!), somewhere where he cannot be found: like under the ground, or in the depth of the ocean. He cannot die nor fade, but he can detach himself from reality, pretending that he no longer exists. This fate is tragic, but inevitable. He made his choice.**

**2) Attachments**

**Those are the most common reason among ghosts. Professor Binns is the perfect example. He was too attached to his job as a teacher. When he died in his sleep, he was convinced that the Gate was just a dream. Truth offered him to pass, but he refused, insisting that he had to get back to his class. He got his wish: he woke up as a ghost and proceed to his classroom, as usual. They say he doesn't fully realize he's a ghost, but it's not exactly true. He did after a while, but was too busy with his routine to care. Professor Binns is actually the youngest ghost in Hogwarts: he died about twenty years earlier. The reality didn't hit him yet and it won't for a long, long while. He's going to realize his mistake when after a couple of generation, a new Headmaster is going to fire him. Then, he will literally nothing left.**

**Another case is Moaning Myrtle. Surprisingly,** **_her_ ** **attachment was her negative relationship with her peer, Olive Hornby. In spite of what you might think, hatred is actually a powerful attachment. All Myrtle wanted after death was revenge on her schoolmate, for making fun of her glasses. Quite an ironic reason to condemn yourself to hell, isn't it? Well, Myrtle got what she wanted and was quite satisfied with it. She continues her purpose by trying to make students pity her or scaring them in revenge for insulting her. She's a young ghost too, only fifty years old – if she lived, she'd be in her sixties. She hadn't gotten any wiser yet… When she does, then, who knows? Perhaps she will become a nicer person.**

**3) Regret**

**This is the most rare of reasons, and you can rarely meet a ghost like that. Because unlike other ghosts, he immediately realizes at least partly what he has done… and what was sacrificed. The ghosts who chose their exile, since they feel unworthy of afterlife, are determined to show their remorse through staying in the land of the living forever. They are not happy by any means, but they're often less miserable than wizards who chose to stay on Earth for other reasons.**

**We know about two such ghosts, which are: Bloody Baron and Helena Ravenclaw.**

**Helena Ravenclaw not only stole her mother's Diadem and ran away to Albania, but also broke Bloody Baron's heart. Her regret for her sins was so strong she didn't want to go to the afterlife. Helena demanded to be sent back, to speak with her mother and the Baron, and beg for their forgiveness. It was a childish choice, really, because she could have achieved the same thing if she waited in the afterlife for them to join her. But Helena was impatient and overwhelmed with regret.**

**She couldn't have known that her choice would doom the very person she wanted to make amends with.**

**Bloody Baron, after killing the person he loved most in his rage, was terrified. When he saw Helena turn into a ghost, he felt so guilty he didn't listen to her apologies. In a daze, he picked his bloody knife he used to kill her and stabbed himself. He wanted to show her how sorry he was, he didn't want to leave her. But naturally, his choice didn't bring him happiness either. Helena didn't love him – she only wanted to apologize. Bloody Baron loved her and refused to be separated from her, but she didn't want him by his side. In his mind, he selfishly hopes that perhaps one day, after centuries of showing remorse with his gloomy, depressing behavior, she would accept him. But Helena knows she can never give him what he truly wants – and even if she could, not without a body, not as a ghost.**

**In the end, their tragic choices, twisted together by fate, caused them more pain and grief that is possible to experience while alive.**

**As you can see, there is no winning situation when you are a ghost. It is, truly, a fate worse then ordinary death.**

**Anyways, there are certain conditions required for a possibility of becoming a ghost.**

**One – magical ability. It's a part of the toll that needs to be paid. Obviously, ghosts can't use magic. The reason for that is because their incorporeal forms are created by the magical energy of the wizards. In other words, Muggles can't become ghosts, simply because they have no magic to create their ghost projections. I say, good for them! (I can't cover in this entry specific properties of a ghost, like the intangibility, because that will come later. Sorry guys.)**

**Two – a clean and intact soul. I mentioned that the Unicorn Blood Curse makes you unable to become a ghost. There are few other ways, most involving dark magic, that take that possibility away: for example creating a Horcrux and having it get destroyed. Voldemort cut off his ability to become a ghost** **_twice_ ** **. What a loser – I bet his hell is much worse :P But there are also non-evil ways to make yourself unable to become a ghost. When Edward healed his injury in Baschool with alchemy, using his own soul as a Philosopher's Stone, he shortened his life span by a couple of years. But it also made him incapable of becoming a ghost, since he used up some of its energy. Don't feel sorry for him though – Ed definitely wouldn't want to become one, his waaay smarter than that.**

**Three – the existence in the HP Universe. People in Amestris can't become ghosts. Why? There isn't enough magical energy around to sustain an incorporeal form of a ghost. Nicolas Flamel said that magic is weaker in Amestris, which is very true. The energy is so weak in there that people who have magical abilities – like Edward – cannot use them without a wand. There are no natural magical creatures in Amestris, which results in no wands, which results in no wizards.**

**Pheeew! That's a lot of stuff, isn't it? And I haven't talked about Poltergeists yet.**

" ** _My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost._** **" – Nearly Headless Nick**

**Are Poltergeist ghosts? The answer is: yes and no.**

**Yes, because:**

**a) they are creatures that actually died in the past**

**b) they can be intangible and float like real ghosts**

**c) they do not age and can continue to exist forever**

**No, because:**

**a) they can still actually die**

**b) they can become physical and possess some senses**

**c) they can get hurt**

" **Poltergeist" is a name for a large number of ghosts belonging to creatures who, while alive, were not fully human. Not every half-human ghost is a Poltergeist, though, just to clarify. A half-giant or a half-Veela would be beomce ordinary ghosts, for example.**

**Peeves is a ghost of a half-human half-Leprechaun. He was a powerful, mischievous individual back before he died. His reason to stay behind were, naturally, attachments. In particular, his love for making pranks. But because he wasn't fully human, his incorporeal form was affected by his Leprechaun part. He can project himself a physical form, so he can feel and eat and smell (he can't sleep though). However, the fact that he can be physical makes him vulnerable. Peeves can get hurt (Edward proved it *evil snicker*), so he can also die of injury. What happens if he dies? Well, he's gone. Caput. Out of existence. Completely and utterly gone. He gave up his afterlife, after all.**

… **now I'm convinced that being a ghost royally sucks.**

**2.** **Magical Portraits**

**Personally, I always HATED this idea. Out of all J. K. Rowling's nonsense (forgive me, hard-core "Harry Potter" fans, but I** **_have to_ ** **speak my mind here!), this is the issue that had always bugged me the most.**

**Moving photographs, I totally get. You don't even need magic to make something like that. It works like a cinema-graph, just on paper. However, the longer I thought about possible scenarios of how exactly talking portraits** **_work_ ** **, the more** **_disturbing_ ** **my revelations were.**

**Have you read "Ronald Weasley and the Very Friendly Horcrux"? It's another HPxFMA crossover by "The QAS". If you haven't I recommend it – the story brings up some dark and valid points about creating those portraits. The fic is in progress but it's regularly updating, so it's totally worth it to check it out. However, I'm running on a slightly different assumptions in my head-canon.**

**Anyway, just how accurate of a copy magical portraits are, compared to their – for the lack of a better word – originals? At first, I thought that the Fat Lady, Sir Cadogan and all of those funny portraits are completely artificial… I mean they don't sound like real-life characters, they're practically comic relief. So I thought, maybe a wizard with wild imagination painted them for laughs. But then, I started asking questions: how exactly can you make up an entire personality from** **_scratch_ ** **? Despite what Al had thought once, it's not that easy to create a "puppet" with fake memories. The portraits can interact with people and each other, they can even act in their painted world, or be affected by things – Fat Lady got drunk on a Christmas party, for instance. How the heck would that work, if the portraits weren't** **_real_ ** **in any way whatsoever? Maybe most lack intelligence, but they're obviously sentient, and they can experience a limited range of emotions, like fear and self-preservation. When Sirius Black slashed Fat Lady's portrait, she fled.**

**Imagine if those portraits were really like people… wouldn't being stuck in canvas for eternity a torture? They're held there against their will like in prison. Admirably, it's a comfortable prison and it even allows some sorts of freedoms, like walking into another magical portrait. But it's still a prison. It's just like with ghosts – eternal damnation.**

**Then we have another grave matter – paintings of people that we know really existed, and most importantly, are dead.** **_Wait, what?!_ ** **So why doesn't everybody make those?! People who are loved die everyday, and I'm sure their mourners would do anything to keep them alive, somehow... So why the only painted portraits outside Hogwarts was Mrs. Black, who screamed curses at every person unlucky enough to meet her, and Ariana, Dumbledore's sister, who never even spoke? It's expect** **_every_ ** **house of** **_every_ ** **wizard being filled with the portraits of their family ancestors. If they treat those so casually, it wouldn't be a problem, right?**

**But like I already said, the more I thought about it, the more disturbing it is. Here you have an exact copy of someone you love – with the same looks and personality, looking at you, talking to you. You can never touch them or they you. Isn't that… cruel? For both of you? How can anybody submit themselves to such thing?! It's awful, and I'm not talking just about the portrait, I'm talking about being ethical. Once a person dies, they should remain dead. If they don't come back as a ghost – which is almost always – that means they wish to stay that way. Humans shouldn't play being God, magic or not. Edward and Alphonse Elric had learned this lesson the hard way.**

**You see, no matter how it looks like –** **_wizards cannot create life_ ** **.**

**It's impossible, just like Human Transmutation. You cannot bring dead back to life and you cannot conjure life out of nothing, even if wizards are convinced otherwise. You can only create an illusion of life or summon it.**

**You're probably wondering right now: what about objects turned into animals with transfiguration? Are they an illusion or summoned from somewhere? Well, sorry guys, I can't answer just yet – let Edward and Alphonse discover it themselves.**

**Let's get back to the portraits. So if they are not truly alive – since wizards cannot create life – what exactly are they? Well, I came up with a pretty neutral solution, which is the least disturbing scenario.**

**Magical Paintings are actually like wizard diaries – they contain memory put inside by the creator (literal, physical memory, like the one you put in a Pensieve). Now, those Paintings are not accurate diaries unless they are self-portraits. Imagine having a recording on a computer. You cannot receive any data that isn't there already – the painted people cannot come up with revolutionary ideas, fall in love or express emotion like real life person can. A Painting is merely a** **_reflection_ ** **of creator's interpretation of a person, NOT an actual copy of him or her. The less the creator knows about the person, the less accurate the Painting's 'personality' is.**

**Now, I know what I said about Paintings living in their own world, like getting drunk or having conversations – we have to assume it's all fake and artificial, though. They are programmed to act like they're alive, because that's what the creator intended. Hogwarts' Portraits are more entertaining that way. When you watch a video on your computer, there is nothing really inside the screen. That's the truth, no matter how realistic the illusion is. Fear and emotions – those are reflections too. That means that every single Painting in Hogwarts, it used to belonged to a person from the past. An actual, living person. But the Painting is nothing more than a photograph or recording, with interaction abilities enchanted by the creator.**

**Oh, man, that was an exhausting explanation. Please, Mrs. Rowling, think through your concepts next time for me…? Or, who am I kidding. Let's move on to the next plot-hole.**

**3.** **Triwizard Tournament, the Goblet of Fire and the winning Cup**

**The tradition of the Triwizard Tournament started in 1294. Three schools are always involved – if it had always been involving only those same schools, we do not know – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry located somewhere in England, Durmstrang Institute located somewhere in Germany, and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic located somewhere in France. In the Tournament, three chosen champions, one from each school, complete three tasks and the winner is awarded 1,000 Galleons (or the equivalence of it in whatever currency they use in the Wizarding World of Germany or France) and eternal glory or some other nonsense.**

**In any case, it's challenging, it's dangerous, and it's very entertaining for the crowd rather than the champions. Each task is deadly, in fact so much that a Hogwarts' champion died in the 1792 Tournament. Some wizards used to make jokes that it happened only because he was a typical unlucky Muggle-born Hufflepuff (which is so** **_racist_ ** **…) and like that wasn't enough, Cedric Diggory, who got killed next, was a Hufflepuff too. That's too much irony. I feel so bad for Hufflepuff, people, nobody respects them enough…**

**Anyway, let's go back to the Tournament's origins. It started with the three Headmasters of the three magical schools in 1280's, who wanted to connect wizards internationally, because of the general problems with Muggles and the witch persecutions. It turned out so well, that it became a tradition, and a Triwizard Tournament was held every 25 years. Twice, however, the Tournament happened after 24 years, once because of the fear of a war starting, and once because a Headmaster was old and dying and wanted to organize his last Triwizard Tournament. The traditions, such as the Goblet of Fire, the Yule Ball or the winning Cup slowly developed over time. The first Tournament had no magical Cup in the last task and the students were selected by their Headmasters according to their best grades, not by a magical Goblet.**

**The Goblet was actually created by the Headmaster of Durmstrang in 1419. The magical object works like this: first, the record of all students is magically put in the Goblet. Every piece of paper with a signature on it, which gets burned in the magic Fire, records the student's achievements, grades and personal traits. The Goblet uses the process of elimination and picks the champion with a highest chance of success. Sort of like a vending machine, only with stratified instead of completely random selection... if you know what I mean... xD**

**So basically, the Goblet is not alive. But it's still a powerful magical object that isn't easily fooled. Just how did "Moody" - Barty Crouch Junior – managed to trick it to select** **_four_ ** **champions?**

**Well, if you think of the Goblet as of a computer, and the wizard as a hacker, the answer is simple. "Moody" placed a spell on the Goblet of Fire that tricked it into 'thinking' two things:**

**1) After selecting a champion for Hogwarts, no champion is yet selected for Hogwarts**

**2) There are no other possibilities for a Hogwarts' champion other than Harry Potter**

**Harry's data was falsified as well – the Goblet treated him like he was a seventh-year, not a fourth-year. It was all carefully planned so the Goblet of Fire would spew Harry's name as well. The reason why they couldn't just ignore Harry and leave him out of the Tournament is because of certain rules that were introduces ages earlier, before the Goblet of Fire was involved in the selection.**

" ** _Oh, details! They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway._** **" – Ludo Bagman**

**Before the Goblet of Fire, they were a lot of pranksters who put volunteered their peers' names, just to make them scared. However, it stopped being funny, once it actually happened that a person who** **_didn't_ ** **want to compete was selected as a champion. It caused a huge commotion. Since that year, there was a "magic contract" involved – a person once registered couldn't back away, and if there were people impersonating other's signatures, there were dire consequences. The problem was that at first, it gave the Headmasters' a perfect excuse select champions as they pleased (for example their relatives), ignoring entries that should have been considered. That was one of the reasons why the Goblet of Fire was set to be the undisputed chooser of the champions. To make the selection unbiased and fair.**

**The last thing – the winning Cup. Of course, the genuine article was** **_not_ ** **a Portkey. Instead, it was a really nice-looking trophy, enchanted to never get dusted and be resistant to physical damage. What became of it after Barty Crouch took it? Well, the legend says that Voldemort kept it and put it in Bellatrix' vault for safekeeping, possibly planning to use it as a Horcrux. He eventually chose Nagini, but the Cup probably remained there for many long years, the only item that did not gather any dust. They say it's almost as elegant as Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, which used to sand right next to it.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author's Note:
> 
> Thank you for reading the fourth entry of "Filling plot-holes and explaining the unexplained"! I hope you enjoyed it. Next time: "Thestrals". Any other requests? Please let me know!
> 
> I appreciate all the suggestions you guys are giving me, because I have so many ideas and I don't know were to start :) It's really helpful, so please don't stop! Remember to leave suggestions for future entries in your reviews.
> 
> Although, keep in mind that sometimes, I might not be able to put your requests in the plot-fixing guide. For example, people asked me to write an entry about detailed mechanics of magic, Squibs and Dementors. I'm so sorry, but I can't – not yet. Please understand that it's not because I'm lazy, or I chose to ignore you! You see, those are issues I wish to explore later on that shall be important in the plot. So in the future, if it happens that I miss your request, don't feel left out – feel honored instead! It means that you're onto something important, heheheh! ;)
> 
> Again, thanks reading! Please continue your comments, you guys are amazing and I love all your thoughts on my story, it makes it all worthwhile... :) But most importantly, don't forget to: read on and enjoy!


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